Braving Fire
by aethershine
Summary: What really happened to Peeta during the in-between moments of the Hunger Games series and beyond? This is Peeta's story from Catching Fire through post-Mockingjay including scenes that fit within The Time It Takes. It is not a retelling of scenes from the books and chapters are not back to back in time but rather are vignettes dealing with significant events. Spoilers. Please R&R.
1. Suspecting A Storm

**AN:**

**This is set during Catching Fire from Peeta's POV during the days leading up to the announcement for the Quarter Quell and the hours immediately following. I've always kind of wondered what Peeta might have been doing and thinking during that time. Please R&R. ****The story cover for this piece is attributed to Matthew Venn on Flickr**. 

* * *

**Suspecting A Storm**

I was sitting in the kitchen when the front door flew open with such force that it hit the wall. I rolled my eyes. Bralin had always had about as much finesse as a sledgehammer.

"Hey! Bro…where are you?" Bralin came barreling into the room, five large loaves of bread under one arm. "Oh, hey!" he said putting the loaves on the table. "Just brought you something from home."

"Thanks," I said absently, looking over at the bread. I baked every day, but I expected Bralin's visit had less to do with the bread and more to do with getting away from the bakery.

"This place is dark Peet…why don't you open up some curtains or turn on a light?"

"Why?" I asked, looking around the room.

"It's like a tomb in here. What are you doing?"

"I don't know…just reading," I looked down at the book in my hands.

"In the dark?" he laughed, pushing the kitchen chairs out of the way of the window and yanking the curtains to the right and left. The light cut in, hitting me in the face and forcing me to squint.

"It wasn't that dark," I said sheepishly, realizing that I'd left the lights off again. I had to get used to being able to turn on and off the lights at my whim. It had always been an issue when I lived at home.

"Yeah, it was brother. What is it you're reading there?"

"Uh…it's a history book."

"Is it any good?"

I smiled at him wanly.

"Well…it's a history of the Capitol. And not the one that was required reading here for school. I swiped this one while I was there." I looked at the cover of the book.

"You? Perfect Peeta stole a book? I'm shocked!" he said, mock horror on his broad face. His blonde hair was sticking up in little spikes just like it had been my whole life. Bralin was four years older than me, and my earliest memories of him involved spiked hair and trouble.

Bralin's idea of a good time when we were kids was stealing things from the bakery. Bits of things really, since everything that we made in the bakery was weighed and measured, accounted for and kept within strict margins. But he was a great enthusiast of the little things; he'd been known to scrape the hardened crust from the bottom of the sugar canister and squeeze the last little bit of frosting from the cake decorating bags and tips before they had been cleaned, just to say that he'd gotten one over on the old lady.

That's what he called our mother.

That I'd been a party to his pillaging had less to do with the sport of it and more to do with the fun of being with him. Bralin knew how to have a good time, and as devious as he could be in his schemes to steal from mother, he was devout in his willingness to take full responsibility whenever we were caught. This meant that he had more than his fair share of beatings over the years, but he grew strong and impervious as time wore on. Taber, my other brother, older than me by two years, always joked that mother had been spoiled having such a big son first and she'd whetted her appetite for beatings on him. Taber said that he thought it frustrated her that she had to go easier on the two of us because we were smaller. It was true that Bralin was as big as a house, but Taber and I weren't small, and I never agreed with his account of mother's beatings. I always thought she went after the three of us with equal brutality.

"So what are you reading about?" Bralin asked distractedly, while looking out the back window of my kitchen.

"The last Quarter Quell."

"Why are you doing that?"

I leveled a look at him, arching an eyebrow.

"Oh…right…you're trying to get an idea of what they're going to do this year."

"I'm pretty sure I have some idea of what they are going to throw at us this year…I'm just trying to figure out how they are going to do it," I said, blowing out a breath and putting the book on the table. I stood up to stretch my back, wincing a bit when I walked to the sink

_Damn leg. _

"How do you know what they are going to do?" he asked, sounding confused.

I looked over at him and then scanned the walls and ceilings of my house.

_Anyone could be listening_.

"I need to get out for a bit of air. Wanna walk?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Sure bro…do you want your cane?" he asked in a sweet doting tone as he batted his eyelashes at me.

"Shut up, Bralin," I snickered, giving him a light shove toward the door. "Let's go…get out of my house."

We walked down the front steps. The weather was warm but there was a bit of a breeze coming up the row of houses that made up the Victor's Village. I looked down the road, wondering at the fact that only three of them were occupied. Seemed like such a waste…all that wealth on three victors. Not that any of it surprised me anymore.

As if reading my mind Bralin said wryly,

"Too bad only one house per victor. Be nice to be living in this perfectly nice, empty house right next door to yours."

I felt an old twinge of guilt that had started right after my return to twelve. My mother had expected the family to move in with me, for my father to give up the bakery and for all of us to live together under one roof again. My roof. When I had told her that that arrangement wasn't going to work for me I thought she was going to lose all good sense and hit me right across the face even though I towered over her by over half a foot. Instead she started screaming about how ungrateful I was, about how she and my father had always done everything for me, and that letting them live with me was the only way to repay them.

This scene had lasted approximately fifteen seconds when my father had stepped in and quietly but firmly admonished her for her behavior. Apparently he had not known of her plans to demand to live with me, and he had no intention of giving up the bakery. Bralin and Taber would continue to live at home with them and help run the bakery. I had earned my own home and there was no reason to think that I'd be sharing it with someone else.

As he'd spoken all of the words rang with the tone of truth, and yet the last ones hit me a bit close to the heart.

_No reason to think I'd be sharing it with someone else. _

As things stood right now I would be sharing my home with someone else; whether or not she actually wanted to live there remained unclear. Actually, if I was honest with myself it wasn't unclear at all. Katniss and I spent just about every day together and there was no doubt in my mind that a strong friendship had been forged, but I knew that she had someone else in her heart. Knowing Katniss, I was sure it was more complicated than that, but trying to force her on it would only result in pushing her away. I shook my head a little bit to get this line of thinking out of my head. If my suspicions about the Quarter Quell turned out to be true, the whole issue was soon to be pointless.

Bralin and I walked in silence for a while.

"So what did you want to talk about Peet?" he asked.

I'd been thinking about what I wanted to say for a while, and I knew that it was Bralin I wanted to talk to, so the words flowed freely.

"I've had a will drawn up, Bralin. I don't know how well it will hold up from a legal standpoint over the next few months because I'm convinced that things are going to get very ugly around here. Probably sooner rather than later. In any event, if the law does manage to hold I've arranged for my home and belongings to go to Katniss in the event of my death. If we should both be killed then I've left everything to you and Taber. Hopefully it will give the two of you a chance to get away from mother, even if it is just between shifts at the bakery."

"Both be killed? What are you talking about Peeta?" Bralin walked closer to me, towering over me in a conspiratorial way, which was good. It would be harder for anyone to pick up on what we were saying.

"The Quell, Bralin…they are going to draw us into the Quell."

"What? Why? They can't do that…you're victors…you are exempt."

I reached up and placed my hand on my brother's massive shoulder.

"I know…I know. Please calm down. I don't want anyone else to hear about this," I said quietly, looking toward Katniss's house. "I don't know anything for certain Bralin. But things aren't going so well in the other districts…there have been uprisings. And the president blames Katniss. He thinks that she started a revolt with the berries…that she acted in defiance of the Capitol."

He was standing there looking at me with furrowed brows, but he started to nod his head a little. That was why I wanted to talk to Bralin first without Taber. Bralin had a head for strategy after all of those years trying to elude mother. Taber would have gotten hung up on the idea that the love story between Katniss and I was a myth, not because he was dim, but because he was sensitive to the fact that I did indeed have feelings for Katniss that transcended the fiction, and he would have felt sorry for me. That was the very last thing that I needed right now.

"So why not just take her out? Why go after you too?"

I looked him dead in the eyes and said quietly and evenly.

"You should know by now Bralin…if they try for her it is the same as if they went for me."

He nodded his head, not because he agreed with me but because he accepted me at my word.

"They could do it quietly…an accident or an illness. We are out at the ass end of the country. Why are you so certain it will be the Quell?"

"The president will want to make an example…to the districts."

"If they separate you?"

I winced because he had hit on the thing that I was the most afraid of…that they would somehow get her into the Quell and not me.

"I have to believe that the Capitol audience would not accept that as an option," I said, shrugging my shoulders.

Again he nodded, forever strategizing. We started walking again. I felt better, lighter, though I knew that unloading this burden on Bralin wasn't entirely fair. In part I wanted to talk about it because it worried me, but I also wanted a member of my family to know about the will. I couldn't trust anyone else with the information. Better to not tell Katniss anything at all. At best I would only cause her to become more angry and unpredictable, at worst I would be pulling the pin on a grenade and she'd try to launch the district into a revolt, however hopeless that course currently seemed.

"I guess I'll have to hope you're wrong Peet," Bralin said after a while.

"But you don't think I am?"

He was quiet for a while as he walked.

"If it is as serious as you say it is in the other districts it is hard to imagine that they aren't going to make some kind of move…if the president blames Katniss then I'd expect her to be his target."

I nodded my head.

"Yeah…that's pretty much how I had it figured."

"And you're certain you have to be involved?"

I shot a look at him and he just raised his hands and nodded.

* * *

_One week later…_

I watched the television feeling oddly disconnected. Images of Katniss in wedding dresses filled the screen but I could barely see them. I felt angry and sick when I looked at her. Not because I loved her less or because she was not beautiful, but because this was not what I wanted our life together to be.

When I'd heard that she was being photographed yesterday I'd had to fight the urge to go into my house and lock the door. Despite Haymitch's faith in my prowess when it came to public affairs I wasn't sure that I'd be able to keep up the ruse if a camera crew showed up to interview me about the wedding. Marrying Katniss was something that I wanted, albeit under different circumstances, and the fact that it was being turned into a farce was frustrating. I knew I had to keep it together for everybody's sake, so I'd opened the door to my house to make myself available. Fortunately no one came. Apparently in the Capitol the brunt of the attention focused on the bride when it came to weddings. In all honesty I didn't know how Katniss could be holding up under all of the pressure…knowing the things that she did about the other districts, seeing what was happening in ours…how was she going to maintain the visage of a happy bride?

But somehow she did…the photographic evidence was being televised for the entire country. I had gotten up to get a glass of water when I heard Caesar announce another event for the evening. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. I stopped and turned. I didn't move for the entirety of the president's speech. The words 'existing pool of victors' had barely left his lips before I was out the front door of the house, making my way to Haymitch.

When I arrived at his house I didn't knock, I just walked in. I found him right where I expected he'd be…sitting on the floor in his kitchen, wresting a cork from a bottle.

"Ah…good you're here," he said, his voice flat. "What can I do for you Peeta…I'm pretty busy."

"I'm going into the Quell, Haymitch."

He narrowed his eyes at me.

"I'm pretty sure you've been through a few Reapings so you should know how they work…there is a bowl, and they put the names in it. This year there will be two names, yours and mine. One of the names will get picked. It might be mine," he said and returned to wrestling with his bottle.

"If it is yours I'll volunteer. My question is…what will you do if the name is mine?" I focused all of my will on him, and he looked at me with anger flashing in his eyes.

"I'll volunteer," he said through his teeth.

My anger flared and I grabbed the bottle from his hands. He was quick to try to snatch it back, but not as quick as me.

"I want her to live, Haymitch," I yelled. "Maybe you want that too, I don't know. I just don't know if you can make that happen from inside of the Game."

"Can you?" he asked, his eyes flashing in challenge.

"I'll die trying…can you say the same?"

Something happened in Haymitch's eyes, and all at once I realized that I'd misjudged him. He would die trying to save her too.

"Okay," I said, forcing my anger away and reaching for reason. "I am younger and stronger. We can win the crowd with the love story. I don't have any experience being a mentor and trying to get sponsors…it doesn't make any sense for you to go in and leave me out."

"What if I don't want you to die either?"

That really caught me off guard. He continued speaking.

"I could teach you everything I know about being a mentor. If sponsors know that you are advocating for your lover, they will be falling over one another to give you money for her. I know all of the other Victors who will be in this thing with us…that will give me an advantage on the inside. I get the numbers down to just Katniss and me, she puts an arrow through my heart, and I die a hero for Twelve and an honorable mentor to you both. You'll name a kid after me." He reached back and grabbed the bottle from my hand. He ripped the cork off with his teeth and took a huge pull on the bottle, all the while looking at me in a self-satisfied way. "Not to mention Peeta…if it came down to it I think we both know that Katniss putting an arrow in you will never happen."

"And if someone is intending that she not survive the Quell?" I asked, looking around the room and implicating blame on anyone who might be listening in.

"Not too much either of us would be able to do in that case Peeta," Haymitch said solemnly.

I knew Haymitch well enough to know that I was sunk. It would come down to the luck of the draw then.

"Fine," I said, quietly. "I'll be back tomorrow. Tonight is your last night drinking so enjoy it. I won't have you going into the Quell while you're trying to dry out. You quit tomorrow." I turned and walked out, slamming the door so hard that I broke both lights on either side of the door.

My next stop was Katniss's house. Her mother, who looked like she had been sobbing, greeted me at the door. She started again when she saw me, reaching out a hand to me. I took it in mine.

"This is beyond cruelty," she whispered, her voice shaking.

"Is she here?"

"She ran out right after it was announced."

I nodded.

"Is Prim holding up?"

"She ran into her room and slammed the door. I haven't been able to muster the heart to go check on her yet."

I gave her hand a squeeze.

"Do you want me to do it?"

She nodded her head. I walked into the house, ascending the stairs. I knocked on Prim's door. I heard shuffling and then the door flew open. She looked a bit disappointed. I figured she wanted to see Katniss. But she threw her arms around my waist and buried her face in my chest.

"Oh, Peeta! I am so sorry that this is happening to you again," she cried. "Why are they doing this?"

I stoked her hair, trying to think of something to tell her that was true without burdening her with the whole truth.

"We've all grown up knowing that the Capitol is cruel, Prim. This is just more evidence of it."

I knew that it wasn't enough, so I added,

"You know that I am going to do everything I can to make sure that she comes home, right?"

This made her cry harder, which wasn't my intention.

"They won't let you both out again."

"No."

She wrapped her arms tighter around me.

"If she lives what will she do without you?" she asked, her voice catching on the last two words.

This caught me slightly off guard, and for a moment I felt a lump form in my throat. But I knew that this wasn't the time for sentimentality.

"Your sister will survive. She'll miss me, but she'll move on. What choice will she have?"

"What about you? If you won, would you move on?"

She was looking up at me, and I met her gaze, willing myself to be the grown up.

"I would…in time. It would be hard, but in the end I wouldn't have a choice either."

I kissed the top of her head.

"I have to go now. I have to see my family."

She loosened her grip on me. I was half way down the hall before I heard her voice, small and frightened.

"Just make sure it doesn't come down to the two of you Peeta…I'm afraid that Katniss wouldn't come back from that, and if the roles happened to be reversed neither would you."

A chill went through me. I nodded at her.

I walked down the stairs. Mrs. Everdeen was still standing at the door, her hand on the doorknob. I placed a hand on her shoulder and she put hers on top of mine.

"I'll be back tomorrow," I said quietly, moving past her.

"Peeta," she called out the door after I'd descended the steps on the front porch. I turned back.

"Give your family my…I don't know. Just tell them that I'm sorry for what is happening to you and your family."

"I will Mrs. Everdeen."

I turned my back and started walking. The reality of what was happening was starting to hit me. Even though I had been prepared by my suspicions, I realized that there had been a part of me that had wanted to believe that I was wrong…that we would be all right.

I was so embroiled in my thoughts that I almost walked straight into him.

"Mellark," he said, his voice guarded.

"Gale," I said back, looking in his eyes. He had the hollow-eyed look of someone who had been very ill, and I knew that he was still suffering from the whipping. That he was required to work in the mines didn't help.

"Where is Katniss," he asked.

"Don't know. I was just at her house but she wasn't there."

"You don't think she'd try to leave now?"

"Without Prim and her mother…not likely," I said, looking past his shoulder. I wanted to get to my family. "She'll come home when she's worked some things out. You should go wait with her mother and sister." I said all of this as congenially as I could, but inside I was a torrent of emotion. I was going to try to save her life, and if she survived she'd be coming home to him. I felt a bitterness that I didn't realize I was capable of, but I swallowed it.

"Right," he said. He started walking past me and I made to walk too when he grabbed my forearm. The grip was tight but not threatening.

"If we made a run for it would you come?"

I knew he was only asking because he figured he'd have better odds of getting Katniss to run if she knew I would go too. He wouldn't make eye contact with me and I was struck by how hard it must have been for him to make this gesture. He couldn't see beyond his own pride to imagine that I might perceive it as an act of kindness, that I'd be capable of looking past his more selfish motives.

_What a pair they make. _

All I could think was how emotionally exhausting it must be for both of them to try to communicate their feelings to one another. I might actually feel sorry for them if I didn't have my own stake in the situation.

"It's too late for that now," I said, keeping my tone agreeable. "I have to get home to talk to my family." I pulled my arm away and started walking. I didn't look back.

Things at my parent's house were pretty chaotic. My mother was yelling about rules not being upheld and that something ought to be done. My father was sitting quietly in his chair. He'd risen to shake my hand when I'd walked in. He held my hand in his grip for a long time before pulling me into an embrace.

"It's all right, Dad," I said quietly.

"No…it's not," was all that he said as he released me and walked back to his chair.

Bralin and Taber were both pacing around the room like caged animals, looking from our querulous mother to our silent father and then finally to me. I knew that Bralin had told Taber about my suspicions by the way that they were both looking at me.

"Obviously you've heard," I said and my mother finally fell silent. "Things are going to be pretty busy for me while I get ready for this so I won't be around a lot. Bralin, Taber…you'll help me with training?"

"Of course," Taber said, and Bralin nodded his assent.

"But you won't win," my mother said, "you'll try to save her again, just like last time." Her tone was acerbic, as if I'd done something wrong, as if this new atrocity was somehow my fault. I felt anger flare, but more strongly I felt pity for her. That she couldn't show kindness to her child during a time when he might need her…how shallow and miserable a person she was.

"Yes, mother you are correct…I won't win. I'll do everything I can to save Katniss."

"For what? You'll lose your beautiful house and all those wonderful things! You are strong…you are well liked in the Capitol. You could beat her! And then you could come home and everything here would be waiting for you. They may even give you more for winning the Quell. Another house even." She looked hopeful and slightly insane.

"I'm leaving now," I said, shaking in my rage. "I'll see you tomorrow?" Bralin and Taber nodded. "Father, I'll be back in a day or two." I turned and left without another word.

The walk back to my house was brisk, a necessity to calm my anger toward my mother. By the time I arrived at my front door I felt exhausted but I wasn't ready to go inside. I sat down heavily on my front steps staring out into space. I caught movement in the corner of my eye and I looked down the street to see Katniss stumbling back to her house. Clearly she'd been with Haymitch judging by her uneven gait.

_Great. Now I'll have two drunks on my hands tomorrow._

I knew I was being unfair to Katniss, that the guilt that she was feeling must be killing her. She deserved a break. But for one selfish moment I couldn't help it.

I was mad at her.

Not for the berries. I knew that we'd been backed into a corner on that and she was just smart and gutsy enough to risk it all to survive.

I was mad at her for not loving me. If she had loved me then her intentions with the berries would have been real. She would have been eating those berries because she couldn't live without me. There would have been no need for the lies, for all of the games that we'd played with the media for the past year. We could have come home from the Games and started our lives together. We would have been a footnote in the history books…the star-crossed lovers.

I allowed myself to feel bitter and angry as I watched her stumble up her front steps, oblivious to my presence. The front door to her house opened, and she was pulled into Gale's waiting arms, disappearing from my sight. Bitterness flowed through me like poison. The door closed behind her. I sat for what seemed like hours, letting the anger course through me and then out of me. As it did I started to think about my next move, how to play things to our advantage, how to put our little team in the best light. By the time I was finished I had figured out how to make Katniss into the most sympathetic person in the history of the Games. The audience would love her. They would be falling over one another to save her. Once I had my plan I felt calmer and more in control.

I stood up and walked to the front door of my house. As my hand fell on the knob I had a memory of the first time I'd walked into this house.

Katniss had been with me. The presentation of the house was being filmed so of course she was expected to be at my side. I walked up the steps, my footfalls heavy since I wasn't used to my artificial leg yet. Hers were silent, as always, and she drifted like a specter next to me. People were shouting questions behind us. Many of them were holding cameras and microphones, but no one had followed us up onto the porch. When I reached the door I turned the knob. The door was locked.

"Damn," I said quietly.

"What is it?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at the crowd. She looked like she wanted to knock down the door to get away from them.

"It's locked and I don't have the key."

"Effie didn't give you one?" she whispered.

"No. Did she give one to you?"

"Yeah. Here…try mine," she sifted through the pockets of the elegant jacket she was wearing and fished out some keys.

"What makes you think they'll be the same?" I asked, eyeing her incredulously.

"Don't know. Just get the damn door open," she said through her teeth. Her eyes looked a bit wild, like she was going to snap at any moment.

I had no hope of it working, but as the key slid into the lock and the knob turned I was rewarded with a soft clicking sound and the door swung open. She made a sound in her throat like a little cry, and even though I was angry and hurt I couldn't help but feel sorry for her.

I turned back to the camera crews.

"Give us a minute, guys," I said, winking to impart a feeling of conspiracy, like we were trying to sneak away for a moment. Some of them looked mad and some of them looked touched, that us two kids wanted a few minutes alone together.

Katniss walked into the house and I followed and closed the door behind us. She kept her back turned to me, but I could tell that she was breathing heavily.

"You know that they are expecting you to go down in a minute to be presented with your own house," I said, keeping my voice even.

"I know," she gasped, lightly. "I don't know how I'll be able to do it. I'm exhausted. They are sucking the life out of me."

"Oh come on," I quipped, walking to the front of her, "you've survived worse. This is nothing."

She looked a bit exhausted and her face was drawn. She was still too thin from the Games, and dark circles had formed beneath her eyes. She looked so much older than she had just a few short months ago. And now, according to Haymitch, she had the weight of the Capitol's disapproval bearing down on her.

"For you it's nothing…for me it is hell," she whispered.

"Do you want me to go with you?"

Her eyes rose to meet mine, something that had been happening with less and less frequency over the past couple of days.

"You'd do that for me?"

"Of course," I said. "What are friends for?"

Her eyes lingered on mine for a moment, but then shot away. I saw uncertainty and guilt in them.

"Come on Katniss. We're in this together." I walked back to the door. I waited until she was by my side before opening it. We walked out together into the twinkling of camera flashes.

"I'll get you a copy of the key," she said quietly.

Both of our houses still opened with the same key. For some reason that fact always brought a smile to my face. That we had that kind of trust. And friendship.

* * *

**A/N: These vignettes will not be a scene by scene retelling of Catching Fire, but rather an attempt to capture moments from Peeta's POV. I will try to post chronologically unless I get a great plot idea and have to back track but I'll try to make that clear. If anyone has ideas for scenes where they are interested in seeing things from Peeta's POV please feel free to share and I'll try it out. **


	2. The Locket

**A/N: This story is set during the training period in _Catching Fire_ after the chariot ride through the Capitol and before the interview with Caesar. From Peeta's POV. **

**The Locket**

We'd finished training for the day and I felt drained and demoralized. Katniss was still angry with me, which I could handle. My problem right now was that once we were all sent to our respective floors I had no one else to talk to but her. Haymitch and Effie were absent with whatever business they had to see to during our training. I could have watched more video of our opponents, but now that I'd spent so much time with them during training, I felt like I didn't want to see them as Victors anymore. I knew that this line of thinking was dangerous, and that I'd have to change my perspective quickly, but that thought alone was tiring.

I went up onto the roof to get some fresh air. I must have been concentrating so hard on looking out at the skyline that I didn't hear him coming. He cleared his throat when he was about two feet from me, and I turned sharply.

Haymitch was standing there and his eyes flashed angrily. He was clutching at the bracelet around his wrist like it was a handcuff.

"I've got something for you," he said, his voice low. He produced a small black box from the interior pocket of his jacket. He held it out to me, his eyes averted.

I reached out to take the box. For a moment I felt him resist giving it to me before he let it go.

"You shouldn't have," I said drily, suddenly feeling even more tired as I took the box.

He still wouldn't look me in the eye.

I opened the box. In its dark velvet lay a medium-sized gold medallion bearing the Mockingjay insignia. It hung from a rope-like gold chain. I reached in and touched it with my finger. It was heavy. I didn't know too much about gold, but I was pretty sure that this was a thing of value. In fact I felt certain that I had never held a single object in my hand worth so much.

At first it seemed like such a waste to me, sending me into the arena with something so valuable, when it would most likely be lost or destroyed when I died. But then my nail found the edge and I realized that this was not only a medallion, but a locket as well. I opened it.

My heart sank more than I would have expected. I chuckled to myself darkly, surprised that there were further depths of despair and bitterness to which I could sink.

I was aware of Haymitch watching my hands. I pulled the necklace from the box, set the box to the side and held the locket in my open palm, staring at its contents.

_Unwanted._

That was how I felt. A locket holding a similar set of pictures meant for me would have contained a mother who had never been kind, who had no need of me and no faith in my abilities. And a young woman who I loved but who was not mine and never would be.

"You are very good at this game," I said quietly.

"Anything to keep her alive, right?"

"Yes."

I looked up at him and was surprised to see regret in his eyes. I don't know why, but at that moment it made me feel better. Even though we shared the same objective, which was to keep Katniss alive at all costs, it was nice to know that for Haymitch I wasn't so easily disposed of.

"I'll wait for the right moment to show this to her if it becomes necessary. Thank you for getting this Haymitch. It is a good..." I searched my mind for a word other than 'weapon' but that was what this was...a weapon to use against her, to make her choose to live no matter what.

He nodded his head, clearing his throat, and clutching at his wrist.

"You know what to do," he said, his voice strained. "You always seem to know." He was looking down.

"Goodnight, Haymitch. I'll talk to you tomorrow before training," I said, extending my hand. He enclosed it in both of his, giving it a gentle shake. I moved to release my grasp and step away, but he held fast.

"She's made me promise to try to save you," he whispered.

"What?" I said quietly, trying to maintain my calm. "When did she do that?"

"Back in Twelve."

"What did you tell her?" My voice betrayed my exasperation, and I couldn't help from pulling my hand away from his.

He looked at me angrily.

"What the hell do you think I told her?"

"Ugh, Haymitch. That is perfect, just perfect! You've just made my job immeasurably harder. Now, not only do I have to worry about every other person in that arena, but I have to worry about Katniss herself?"

"Do you honestly think that girl is capable of dying on purpose? Really think about that Peeta...have you ever known anyone with such a will to live?"

"Dammit Haymitch you weren't with her in the arena last year...I know all about Katniss's will. She would have eaten those berries. When her mind has been set on something she sees it through. She was set on winning last year but she was willing to die if it didn't happen on her terms. If she has decided that I am going to live then you should expect to see her risking everything, including her life, to save mine."

He looked at me with frustration in his eyes and I started pacing around the room.

"This locket won't be enough," I growled, throwing it on the ground. "I have to push her away!"

"That would be unwise," Haymitch said, his tone angry but even. "You would both lose the crowd if you did, and with past Victors in the arena that would be a death sentence. Everybody has a favorite. Right now you and Katniss as a couple are a favorite. Apart you have no clout."

"I'll let myself get taken out right away then...I'll step off the damn pedestal early! Then she'll have to focus on her own survival."

"Peeta, listen to me. I'm working on some things. It involves allies and some...sponsors." He looked at me and then glanced around the roof and I caught a look that I'd never seen in Haymitch's eyes before - uncertainty.

_Something was up._

"I can't promise another miracle like last year...but let's just keep our options open. No throwing yourself off of pedestals, please. You never know," he said with his mouth. But his eyes said that he did know something. I stared him hard in the eye for a moment but then he must have realized that he was tipping his hand because he cleared his throat and the look was gone...erased.

I regarded him silently for close to a minute, willing myself to calm down.

"I will tell her you made a deal with me too," I said.

"Fabulous...she'll want to live just so she can get out and kill me. I think that is an excellent idea Peeta." Oddly enough he sounded sincere. Relieved even.

He was acting very strange. He continued to wrestle with the bracelet around his wrist like it was locked on him. Seeing the bracelet reminded me of the locket and I walked over to retrieve it from the ground. I pocketed it, not wanting to put it on until I had to.

"What the hell is she thinking?" I asked, turning to Haymitch. "Doesn't she understand the situation?"

He just stood silently watching me.

"She will have a life if she survives. And I love her so much that I would rather be dead than be without her."

I was shocked by my words, not because I didn't know them to be true, but I'd never said them out loud. I rolled them around in my head for moment.

"I'll say something to her about that, when the time is right," I said, thinking aloud, figuring out my strategy as I spoke, but I was aware that I was beginning to feel ill.

"Isn't that absurd?" I asked, incredulously. "Manipulating her like that with the fact of my love. And then I've got this necklace for her with another guy's picture in it as a bribe to make her want to live and be okay with my death. This is just...so...sick."

Haymitch continued to observe me in silence.

I walked to the edge of the roof. I felt nauseous and sweat was sliding down my back. I gripped the railing, taking deep breaths to try to regain my calm. Inside my mind I could hear a part of me screaming for my right to live, not just through the Games, but in general. I was only seventeen years old. I was kind to everyone, including my miserable mother. I had a decent head on my shoulders. I could make beautiful things with my hands. I had family and friends that I cared about. I loved a beautiful, fierce, complicated girl.

I deserved to live.

I waited for several minutes for these thoughts and feelings to pass.

In the end I was left with the cold reality of the trap I was caught in and the fact that saving Katniss was the only thing that mattered to me under these circumstances. I was able to regain my calm by focusing only on what I could control, which was of course nothing but my own actions. And I would act to save her no matter what.

I turned around. Haymitch was still standing behind me, and though I was pretty sure that I hadn't said anything out loud he had such a look of bereavement on his face that for a moment I wondered if I had said something.

We walked to the elevator in silence.

"Plans for tonight?" I asked, my voice it's normal calm.

He cleared his throat.

"I have a meeting," he said, and I had a moment to wonder at his odd tone before he said, "You going to stay with Katniss?"

"She won't have me. She's still angry about Johanna being naked in the elevator...I laughed at her," I said, my guilt sufficiently distracting me. I vaguely knew that his diversion was purposeful but I didn't push it. "She has no sense of humor."

Haymitch snickered.

"It is a good goddamn thing that girl is so intimidating...I can't imagine how much crap she would have caught in school otherwise."

This made me smile sadly.

"Oh people said things...just not within her earshot. I tried to stick up for her when I could or change the subject."

"That's very gentlemanly of you Peeta. She wouldn't have thanked you for it."

"I know," I sighed. "Couldn't help myself I guess."

Haymitch was quiet for a bit.

"She loves you," he said quietly, almost under his breath, in case we were being filmed in the elevator. "She's got things all knotted up inside of herself, and I know it's complicated by things at home." He mouthed the last words. "But you should know that going into this...she does love you. I've seen enough of human nature over the past twenty five years of this shit to be able to read even the trickiest people."

"Thanks Haymitch."

I shook his hand before I got off the elevator and we parted ways for the day.

I knew he was playing me, trying to solidify my allegiance to her. It wasn't necessary but I appreciated it never the less. It was nice, even if it was for a few minutes, to pretend that she loved me.

As I was walking to my room I passed by Katniss. She was standing in the open doorway of her bedroom with her hand on the knob and a vacant expression on her face. She looked at me, and for a moment it seemed like she didn't recognize me.

"Hey," I said. "You okay?"

She blinked and it seemed as though she was waking up from something. She eyes focused and regarded me sharply. I felt the usual jolt of excitement that I had when I was in her presence. Even after all that we'd been through, after the past year of ups and downs, looking in her eyes still made my heart beat a little bit faster. I mentally berated myself for being so easy…that I could love her so completely and without reason even in the face of my own death. At times I wondered if I'd ever feel differently about her, if this feeling would diminish over time. I guessed I'd never get the chance to find out.

"Peeta," she said, her voice husky as if she'd been sleeping. "Where were you?"

"Talking to Haymitch," I said mildly, fingering the locket in my pocket.

"Oh. Anything important?"

"No," I said. "Everything okay with you?"

She looked at me, and I could tell that she was becoming irritated, like she just remembered that she was still mad at me. She must have been sleeping.

"Yeah. I'm fine," she said, her voice clipped. "You look a little pale."

"Do I?" I asked, surprised.

"A little bit."

I thought for a moment about my impending death.

"I'm fine…just a little tired. I'm going to go to bed."

She didn't say anything. I paused for a bit, hoping that she'd ask me to come in to sleep with her. I had a feeling that she was considering it, because she was kind of shifting around, looking at me and then looking away. She had probably fallen asleep early and woken from a nightmare. Right now she was trying to decide exactly how mad she still was at me. She continued fidgeting and biting her lip, and I decided that tonight I was too tired and heartbroken to let her decide.

"Goodnight Katniss," I said, and turned to walk to my room, leaving her standing in her door.

Occasionally my dignity won out over my love for her, and walking away from her felt like a small, hollow victory. In truth it hurt me to sleep alone as much as it did her because my nightmares mostly centered on losing her in some terrible, vicious way, right before I'd meet my own brutal ending. It might actually have hurt me more, since I loved her and wanted to be near her.

When I got to my room and closed the door I felt my strength leave me. I pulled the locket out of my pocket as I walked to the bed, sitting heavily on its edge. I opened it and looked at the pictures inside. I was filled with such sadness that I didn't think that I could bear it. And it made me angry that there was no representation of me for her to hold onto. After I was dead she'd have this locket with pictures of her loved ones. I wondered if she'd wear it. I wondered if she'd ever think of my wearing it, of it settling on my chest over my heart, possibly at the moment when my heart stopped beating forever.

I slid out the glass cover protecting the picture of her mother and Prim. It was small. I flipped it over and looked at the white backing. I walked over to the desk and found a fine-tipped pen. On the back of the picture I wrote in tiny script:

_You will always have my heart – Peeta._

I slipped the picture back in and covered it with glass.

I felt better. At least now I'd still be there, even if it was a secret. Not completely gone.

**A/N: I'm interested in writing a series of stories told from Peeta's perspective that "fill in" what he may have been experiencing throughout the trilogy. _I am very open to suggestions_, so if there is a "gap" where you are wondering what Peeta may have been doing and thinking I would love to try to write it for you. Also, if there is an interaction in the real story where it is told from Katniss's POV but you'd like to see Peeta's I'd be open to trying to write that as well. I promise that they won't all be as sad as this one...I just don't know how Peeta could NOT have had a negative reaction to the locket. **


	3. Pillow Talk

**A/N: This vignette takes place the night before the Quarter Quell and after the day on the roof. Told from Peeta's POV. **

**Pillow Talk**

I was lying on my back, an arm thrown over my eyes. I judged it to be past midnight. It had been hours since either of us had spoken.

"Peeta," she whisper-breathed.

"Hmm?"

"I didn't know if you were sleeping,"

"Nope…just thinking."

I let my arm fall to the side and blinked my eyes in the dark. She moved closer to me, leaning up on her elbows and placing both of her hands on my arm. I could just make out the outline of her head against the faint light coming in the window. Her hair fell on my arm and pooled in my open palm.

"What were you thinking?" she asked.

"About Arabelle Nichols."

She became motionless and I imagined a perplexed and somewhat irritated look on her face. Her right hand left my arm and I felt her pivot in the bed. Suddenly the room was blazing in light. She returned to her position and waited while I blinked away my night blindness. When I finally could see I was rewarded with the fact that her face looked exactly as I'd imagined it.

"We are going to our deaths tomorrow, and you are thinking about Arabelle Nichols?" she asked, her voice calm but with an undercurrent of annoyance.

I chuckled softly and looked up at the ceiling.

"I was just thinking about school Katniss…about my friends. I was thinking about the people I had the chance to reconnect with over the past year, and the one's I didn't have time for. Arabelle was one of the people I didn't see."

"Oh," she said. A few moments passed. "Were you close?"

It was an odd question coming from her, since I knew her concept of close was miles away from my definition.

"Our parents are friends so we spent a lot of time together when we were little and during the early years of school. She was the first girl I ever kissed. We…" I broke off when I heard her slight intake of breath, the nearly imperceptible squeeze of her hands on my arm.

"What?" I asked, looking at her face.

Her eyes were averted and I could tell that she was disturbed from the way the corner of her mouth turned down. She looked at me and for a moment I could tell she was trying to rally her armor, her grey eyes hard and unreadable. But then she faltered, and I could see that she was hurt and I realized my mistake.

I put my hand on one of her hands.

"I'm sorry…I didn't realize," I said, and I meant it.

"Why would you," she said, her tone matter of fact, but not angry. "We lived very different lives before the Games. Kissing wasn't high on my list of priorities."

I waited silently.

"My first kiss was with you during the Games…isn't that sad?" she said quietly. "I remember thinking about that after it happened. Even though it never was a priority for me I still felt angry that it would happen that way for the whole world to see."

I felt incredibly guilty and also angry, although the emotions were exclusive to separate entities.

I sighed.

"I'm sorry Katniss." I lowered my voice into a whisper.

"What for?" she asked, matching my volume, her brows drawing together.

"I don't know…it is hard to describe. I'm pretty sure that if I hadn't fabricated the romance we'd be dead. At least…I'd be dead," I whispered, mouthing the word 'fabricated.'

"You'd definitely be dead," she stated hollowly, which was fine with me because I knew it was true. Her eyes searched the air in front of her. "I probably would be too…I don't think I would have gotten many sponsors without you. And Cato was brutal. I couldn't have pulled that off alone."

"So we survived because of it…but it had a big price," I said quietly, rolling onto my stomach to try to cover my voice.

"I'm mad that it was on television for the whole world to see, but I don't think a first kiss is a big price to pay," she said, moving closer to me and putting her head on my shoulder so that we were both whispering into the pillow.

"I do."

"Why? Was kissing Arabelle Nichols so wonderful?" she asked, her tone light and even though I knew she meant it as a joke of sorts, it stung my heart.

"Yes…it was actually."

"Oh," she said, slowly leaning away.

I reached out my arm to pull her back.

"No…that's not what I mean," I said gently. "It is not that kissing Arabelle in particular was so wonderful. I'd kiss you and no one else for the rest of my life if that were possible. I just mean that the first kiss of your life…it should be about living life, not avoiding death."

She was quiet for a while and I listened to her breathing.

"Well," she finally said, "I'm glad that it was you."

I was taken aback, and though I was happy to hear the words, I couldn't quite believe her. I tried to figure out what her motive for saying something like that might be, and I didn't discount the fact that we were both likely going to die the next day.

"Why?"

She was quiet and I knew that I'd flustered her. Trying to get her to talk about her feelings about anything was like pulling teeth. Something so personal would definitely cause her to throw up her barriers.

But then she surprised me.

"You say that you love me," she said carefully. "I don't…I…," she fumbled. "No one, except maybe Prim, says that to me. I've never thought about my life in those terms…as someone being loved. It's…," she trailed off.

I waited for a while for her to finish, but I wanted to know, and I was afraid that the moment would pass and all her armor would come crashing down.

"What?"

"A lot," she said, pressing her head harder into my shoulder. "It's a lot Peeta. But I think if life were different…maybe…I don't know."

I had never wanted to press an issue so badly in my life. If we weren't there in the Capitol, likely being recorded and about to go into the arena in the morning I would have pursued the issue. I doubted I would have gotten very far…pushing her rarely bore any fruit. But the words _I don't know_ held room for possibility, which was something that I dared not believe I had with Katniss, especially after the last Games.

"I do love you," I said freely, and I counted myself fortunate that I didn't have any of her issues with expressing how I felt. "And I'm going to do everything I can to make sure that you emerge as the Victor in the Quell.

The changes in her expression were almost laughable. Her face changed from anger to indignation to something resembling self-satisfaction before she forced herself to look at me blankly. It was all I could do not to laugh at her out loud. I'm sure that her guard was down with me more than any one else, but as the person who she was currently trying to deceive, pure intentions aside, her poker face was pitiful.

"Why don't we wait and see what happens Peeta," she said in a clipped tone. "You never know."

"No…it is the Hunger Games so I suppose that you are right."

She surprised me by leaning in to kiss me. The timing of her distraction was obvious, but it didn't stop me from enjoying it. Her breath held the blank, sweet smell that I always associated with freshly drawn water. I reached up and put my hand around a thick lock of her hair, my knuckles resting against the base of her skull. It was nice to kiss her in the relative seclusion of the room, although I knew it was likely that we were being audio recorded. At least it wasn't being photographed with a live audience.

I opened my eyes and was surprised to see her looking at me. She didn't stop kissing me when I caught her, which is what I would have expected her to do…especially her. Looking in one another's eyes at this distance made me feel disarmingly exposed, and I couldn't fathom how she could stand it. She further surprised me my deepening the kiss. The hand she had on my arm gripped harder and the pace of her breath increased. But we did not break eye contact.

The kiss when on for more than a minute, and it was like it had been on the roof that afternoon – both peaceful and affecting. An escape from our reality.

She broke the kiss but did not look away from me. For several seconds as I caught my breath I entertained the fantasy of clutching her to me, of stripping her of clothing and emotional armor, and taking her body and soul. But the look in her eyes brought me back to reality.

She was terrified.

"Are you okay?" I whispered.

_No. _The word was mouthed without sound.

I tried to think of what to say to her. I was going into this Games the same way that I had gone into the first – knowing that I was going to die trying to save her. But this Games was different for her than the first. The first time Katniss was prepared on some level to kill everyone, including me, to survive. This time she expected that she was going to die trying to save me. This ran counter to her strong survival instincts. But I sensed that it was more than that.

"What can I do?" I asked under my breath.

She continued to stare straight into my eyes.

"I don't know…I'm scared. Are you scared?"

"Of course."

"It is hard for me to tell when you are scared."

I thought about her observation for a moment. I certainly had experienced a mounting sense of dread as each day passed leading us closer to the Games. And just like the first time I imagined standing on the podium watching the clock count down to zero – between the adrenaline in my veins and the pounding of my heart I would feel out of my mind with fear. As for my unperturbed behavior before hand I supposed it had something to do with manipulating the audience's perception. It was better to play the love struck young man who maintained focus on a person he was now calling his wife. But it was also about accepting my fate, which would hardly make her feel better, because I was almost certain that although she was committed to keeping me alive, I doubted she knew yet how she would accomplish sacrificing herself when it came down to it.

"I figure things out and make my peace with them beforehand Katniss. I've been that way my whole life. I have a basic strategy and then I take things as they come. I have no control over what happens to me in the Games. I only control how I react…and I know what my objective is in all this." I ran my hand over her hair.

She looked at me sadly.

"I wish that I had your mind for strategy. Perhaps it would make me feel more in control. I hate to admit this about myself, but I become very pragmatic and almost animalistic once I get into the arena."

"Look at it as a strength. It saved us both in the 74th."

She leaned her forehead into mine.

"I can't lose you."

I couldn't help but think of what she would be losing at home if she got her wish…if I lived and she died, and I almost said it to her but I held my tongue. That was a conversation for another time. A time when I would need to manipulate her.

"You should try to rest now. The morning will be a whirlwind and it will be here before you know it." I kissed her on the forehead.

She turned off the light and settled down close to me, putting her head in the crook of my arm and pressing her face to my chest. She pulled the length of her body into mine and for a moment I felt a heat and hunger that I could barely contain. But I wouldn't push her, not even now, standing on the precipice of the end of my life. I felt sadness and frustration that I would go to my death without experiencing this one thing – the act of love. But she was not ready, and since she was the only one for me I would have to live with it.

Fortunately, my life would be short.


	4. A Last Kiss

**A/N: This scene takes place during Catching Fire on the beach at the very end of Katniss and Peeta's kiss after Peeta has given his locket to Katniss.**

**A Last Kiss**

My eyes were closed and I breathed in the scent of life. My mouth cradled her lower lip, while hers enclosed my upper. I held her tightly in both arms, and her left arm encircled my neck, her right hand resting on the side of my face. There was no part of her that I did not want to fold into myself – to protect, to revere, to love. It seemed like I felt something out of the ordinary in her, as this kiss seemed different to me than the others. She was fully present in a way that I had never experienced, and when she sighed it held the weight of longing. I gave myself over to the kiss, perhaps because it was a simple pleasure in this terrible place, and also because I knew my kisses were numbered and this may well be my last.

The lightning struck the tree and the kiss was broken. Finnick called us to task, and we parted with a few words, mostly spoken by me for the sake of the audience. I hoped that sponsors would do well by her. The look that she gave me after I mentioned the baby was lingering, as if she had a question that she was brimming to ask but couldn't for the sake of our ruse.

It was when I broke eye contact that the full realization of what I'd just done hit me, and it rushed at me and filled me with nausea and self-loathing.

The bile rose in my throat as I turned and walked back to my spot on the beach. Finnick sat facing the water so I faced the jungle. I knew I should be watching the dark crush of foliage for signs of an attack, but my eyes saw little more than a vague green blur. I allowed my face to look sad for the cameras, but sad was only a meager portion of what I felt.

I was disgusted.

I had just calmly and methodically manipulated the girl I loved into thinking it was okay for her to let me die.

That she would take it all to heart and follow through on my words remained to be seen, but for the moment I had to hope that I had laid the groundwork for her choosing her life over mine.

My eyes never left the jungle and my face remained a mask, but I reached my hands down and dug them in as far as they would go, crushing handfuls of sand in my fists, squeezing until it felt like the bones in my hands would break.

"Your story is sad," Finnick said quietly over his left shoulder.

I didn't trust the strength of my voice to respond, nor did I know exactly what to say. It was hardly a compliment to which one would respond with a 'thank you.' I looked over at him vaguely just to acknowledge that he'd spoken. He was holding a short stick in his hand tracing patterns in the sand.

"I think in seventy-five years of the Hunger Games, yours is probably the saddest story…that ever got told anyway." His last words were spoken to the ground, as if to shelter them from the spectacle.

"I imagine that every Hunger Games had a saddest story for someone. Every Tribute that didn't return home was someone's saddest story," I replied quietly under my breath. I didn't want to make any more speeches today.

"It's funny," he said in a voice that held no humor, "I've been watching the Hunger Games my whole life, survived them once, I've been a mentor for nine years and you want to know what the hardest part is?"

I shrugged, not feeling up to guessing.

"Living with yourself when you have to do things to insure survival. And I'm not talking about for yourself…trying to keep yourself alive is relatively easy if you have the right tools. It's instinctual.

"It's when you are working to keep someone else alive…that is when it is hard."

I knew then that he had overheard my conversation with Katniss, and though I knew it was ridiculous since all of Panem had likely been listening in, I felt irritated that he'd been eavesdropping. I looked away from him not wanting to talk, but he continued.

"Three years ago I had this one tribute named Kree. The things I did and said to get her sponsors…they still trouble me, truly. It was because of my actions that she was able to kill three twelve year olds who had formed an alliance. They were basically hiding…just trying to keep out of the fray. Because of me her sponsors gave her access to a terrible weapon, kind of like that chemical mist that almost got us in the forest. Those children died blind and screaming for their mothers."

He scratched at the sand with his stick and was silent.

I tried to remember those Games so that I wouldn't have to ask him, but in truth I had always put them out of my mind as quickly as I could when they were over. I finally asked,

"What happened to her?"

"She made it to the final eight but she was beheaded two days before the end by this behemoth from Two."

I didn't know what to say so I was silent.

We were quiet for a while and I spent my time scanning the edge of the jungle and digging my hands into the sand. I looked at Katniss several times, wondering if she was asleep or if she was listening to our conversation.

"She loves you," he said with no preamble.

I fixed a look of impatience on my face before I quietly said,

"Of course she does…she's my wife."

He smirked at me and nodded his head.

"When you were electrocuted and your heart stopped she was wild in her grief. It surprised even me…her reaction was intense."

I fixed my face into something resembling concern that I hoped would read as my sympathy for what she must have gone through. I thought about those first confused minutes after I'd come to. The pain in my head and ringing in my ears had been overwhelming, but I could remember her desperation; her fingers digging into my flesh and her arms clutching me. Her tears and emotion were genuine enough, but with all that we'd been through together I could imagine that she would react that way even without being in love with me. I was her friend, perhaps her best friend. And she'd taken it upon herself to be my protector this time. I found it was easy to talk myself out of the idea of Katniss being in love with me. It was essential to my own wellbeing that I not allow my heart or mind to go there. I had to believe that her feelings for me were that of a friend, and nothing more.

"I know a thing or two about madness and love," he said, a bit of anger coloring his voice.

I knew he was referring to Annie Cresta, the Victor of the 70th Hunger Games, who lost her mind as a result of it, but who was Finnick's one true love.

He cleared his throat before he continued.

"It is like that in the beginning especially…a kind of madness. It is overwhelming."

I smiled wryly.

"I've always found Katniss less overwhelming and more cross when it comes to our…love." The words were aimed at the sand.

"Katniss can be prickly." He looked at me and raised his eyebrows. "No offense, she is your wife after all."

I gave him a smirk.

"I'm well aware of her charms."

"But with that comes a force that is almost untamable," he said, his face tipped up to the sky. I noticed that he'd lost the stick and started turning the gold bracelet on his wrist; the one that resembled the one Haymitch wore. "It can draw people together." The last words were whispered as he dropped his head and spoke directly into his chest. He turned and looked me dead in the eye and I knew he was trying to communicate something about the uprisings and I felt the spark of fear. I gave him an imperceptible shake of my head.

"Did you mean it when you said that there was nothing else for you at home?" he asked.

This question struck me as cruel. How could I answer it honestly without undermining my credibility with the audience? Of course I didn't want to say that the answer was no. Doing that could hurt Katniss with the sponsors. But I felt some responsibility to honor my parents and my brothers…to say that they were nothing to come home to was a slap in the face. I had friends and a trade that I enjoyed. I had things to live for.

I was quiet for a time before I answered.

"My life would be unfulfilled without loving her," I began carefully, feeling that I was speaking the truth without betraying my family. "The hole that she would leave would be impossible to fill. I know you understand," I said pointedly, hoping that this would deflect this line of questioning and force him to back off.

He gave me a sidelong glance and something dangerous flashed in his eyes and I knew that I'd struck a nerve, which was exactly my intention. What he was doing poking at me at this precarious juncture was beyond me.

Part of me questioned Finnick's motives over the past few days. He had risked his life for us several times, and though I knew that we had formed an alliance that would be popular in the Capitol, I couldn't quite uncover his angle. I had no doubt that he could easily kill Beetee and I in hand-to-hand battle; his skills and cunning with the trident were documented at length throughout Panem. Even so I felt that all things being equal he'd met his match with Katniss where weapons were concerned. And Johanna…I half expected her to slit all of our throats while we slept. Just the thought of that made me glance over at Katniss's sleeping form, checking to make sure that Johanna was far, far away from her.

"But I meant what I said before…never doubt her love."

"I won't," my voice hollow.

"I say this to you because I know you are going to throw yourself on your sword in the end. In order to keep her safe you know it will have to come down to the two of you."

I looked at him out of the corner of my eye.

"Does this mean you anticipate being out of the running?"

_How easily we talk about our own deaths._

"Well…normally I would say you shouldn't count me out. But I think that some of the more bloodthirsty viewers in Panem would love to see the Quell come down to the two of you."

This made a shudder go through me. I'd always depended on the crowd to keep us alive. Now to think that they wanted to save us until the end…to watch us decide who would die. But then I had to give myself a little mental slap. It was exactly what they had tried to do last year. Only Katniss had out-foxed them.

"You have no idea the depths to which this mob sinks. Truly, their depravity has no boundaries." He did little to hide what he was saying, and I had a moment to wonder if he was goading them in some way. Was he trying to make them want to take him out?

I felt overwhelmed and sick.

"Where is Johanna?"

"I'm here," she said, startling me. She was sitting with her back to us, partially obscured by a large piece of driftwood.

"I'm going to get some sleep."

"Yes, you should be with your wife in the short time you have left together," Finnick said, his tone acerbic. "Don't abandon all hope though. You pulled off a miracle last year."

I stood and walked to Katniss without saying a word, vaguely wondering if Finnick himself wasn't a bit mad.

I found her asleep and lay down behind her with my head near her's. I breathed in the scent of her hair, which was a mix of salt water, sweat, and the sweet scent that always clung to her. Something that belonged to her and no one else.

"I know that what I am about to say is impossible. It would have been impossible under any circumstances in the world that we live in." I formed the words on my mouth only, not even whispering, for what I wanted to say to her was for myself only.

"Though maybe…your mother loved your father so much that she left the merchant class and moved to the Seam to be with him. I would have done the same for you."

My throat tightened and I felt tears burn the back of my throat.

"I have this dream sometimes, where we are at a festival, back in Twelve. There is a dance. You are standing with Prim, watching the others dance. Of course you are unhappy to be there, but you are beautiful, radiant, dressed all in white. I find the courage to ask you to dance."

I smiled as I mouthed the next words.

"At first you balk and stare at me with that impenetrable look that you get, the one that you give me when you aren't going to back down, which I love you for. But Prim leans her shoulder into you and you bow your head to put your ear to her mouth. She whispers something to you, and your mouth goes up at the corner, and I know that I've won.

"You accept the dance, and I hold you close to me. In this dream it is for the first time so it feels new and yet somehow right. And I know that you know it, despite the fact that you won't look me straight in the eye. Maybe that is why you won't look at me.

"We finish the dance and we part. You thank me and smile, and it feels like my chest is on fire, the light inside of me is so bright. Somehow I know…I just _know_ down to my core that we will be together, and it fills me with such indescribable happiness.

"I always wake up from that dream feeling content…I've even had it here. I wish that I could give it to you, so that you can keep it for me. So that the idea of us could live on, even if you do move on and live your life with someone else."

I placed my hand on her back and she sighed, rolling toward me. She was still sleeping, but her face was smooth and peaceful, without any of the distress that I've often seen when she sleeps. She reached out suddenly and pressed her hand to my chest.

"I love you," I whispered.


	5. Lightning

**AN: This chapter is dedicated to SpiritofEowyn. Though I had been thinking about writing this for a while it was her suggestion that prompted me to sit down and write it. It is a shorter chapter, though the next one will occur shortly after in the timeline...in other words they kind of go together, but I wanted to get this up as soon as it was finished. I hope that you like it...please, please review if you do. It really makes me happy, and I write faster. Thank you to everyone who has been reviewing and setting alerts. I've been trying to respond to reviews but I've fallen behind so I beg your forgiveness on that front. I'll try to do better. **

* * *

The Beginning of the End

"Don't_ worry, I'll see you at midnight."_

And she kissed me. It was hurried and her mouth tasted of foreign bread. Something in me turned over. This felt wrong.

As she and Johanna walked into the woods my mind was a blur, I was trying so hard to think ahead, but the plan had gotten away from me...there were too many variables. The complexity of the situation was beyond me at this point and I felt frustration and anger at a level that I had never experienced in my life.

For several minutes I struggled with the problem, aware that with every passing moment she got further and further away from me.

In the end there was only one thing I was sure of.

_We should never, never have let them separate us._

I started to walk in the direction that she and Johanna had taken.

"Peeta, where are you going?" Beetee asked, his voice oddly pinched.

"I'm going after Katniss," I said, over my shoulder, and I glanced back at him just long enough to see him and Finnick exchange a strange look.

I had one moment to think, _it is over, _before the wire in Beetee's hands went slack.

All of my powers of negotiation and communication evaporated as the anger erupted into fury. I turned on both of them and spit acerbically, "What have you done?"

Beetee was distracted, looking in panic from the slackened wire in his hands to the force field.

"Peeta, give me your knife," he said, and his voice shook.

The rage that flowed through me was completely outside of my control and I considered throwing the knife at his heart. Instead I pitched it to him handle first, knowing full well that he might use it against me. It didn't matter if he tried. I was leaving, and I'd kill him with my bare hands if he tried to stop me.

I turned to go, and Finnick stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

"I'm going," I said, stepping so close to him that we were level eye to eye.

"I think we should wait here," his voice was uncertain but he stood his ground. The trident was in his right hand and I knew that he could strike at any moment and my life would be over.

"It is my job to protect her."

"Not anymore," he said quietly, but oddly his voice held little threat. He was merely resigned. "You _must_ stay with Beetee." He rallied and tried to be menacing, but there was something behind his eyes that betrayed him. I knew in that moment that there was more going on here than I knew, and that it had to do with Katniss. I also knew that he did not intend to hurt me, and as I was fully prepared to do whatever was necessary to go after Katniss, I had the upper hand.

Suddenly I heard someone crashing through the trees and Johanna emerged covered in blood. It felt as if my head disconnected from my body and I could not believe what I was seeing.

_Johanna had killed Katniss._

"They are coming and we need to lead them away now," she yelled at Finnick, before taking off into the trees. Finnick looked at me one last time, his eyes holding a plea, before taking off after her.

My feet were solid stone rooted to the ground. My mouth dried up, and as light as my head felt, my chest and stomach felt as though they had been filled with cement.

My grief was crushing me from the inside, filling me from my core outward, through my arms, down my legs. I could feel it pressing out on my skin.

_She was gone._

I thought it over and over, but I couldn't quite process it. I pictured the girl in the red dress with two braids standing on the chair singing. I pictured her starving and sitting in the mud by my house. I remembered my fear for her, not just because I loved her, but also because I saw in that moment the frailty of life, and realized for perhaps the first time that children could and were dying of starvation within miles of my house. I pictured her twirling in her fire dress, and the dangerous look in her eyes when she held out the berries. I imagined her in her wedding gown and I flashed on my fictional account of our toasting.

But something fiddled with the frayed edges of my sanity. At first I couldn't figure out what it was. Something was missing from this whole terrible scene.

And then it hit me all at once.

_There had been no cannon._

Prior to Johanna emerging from the jungle there had been no cannon.

She was not dead. At least not yet.

I plunged headlong into the jungle following the wire, keeping clear of it.

I called her name repeatedly, not caring who I drew to my location. At that moment I was as deadly as I'd ever been, and I knew that given the opportunity I would use my hands to crush anyone to death who stood between me and Katniss. At some point I left the wire and wandered deeper into the jungle, following the blood trail that Johanna had left behind.

_Was it Katniss's blood?_

In my distraction and blindness I did not realize that I had unwittingly stumbled into a different drama, as I entered a clearing to find Brutus and Chaff exchanging deadly blows. It appeared that neither was armed with anything but their fists. I hesitated. I was inclined to go to Chaff's aid, but that moment of hesitation cost him his life, as Brutus picked Chaff up and drove his back brutally into his knee. Chaff's back emitted a sickening crunch, and he moaned once before going still. The cannon boomed immediately.

At that moment I heard Katniss calling my name in the distance, and though her voice had the edge of hysteria, it was strong.

I locked eyes with Brutus, and in that horrible moment I knew that I would kill him, that nothing would stand in the way of my getting to Katniss.

I called back to her, my voice low and definitive, and Brutus saw my resolve. He took a step backward, and I advanced on him hard and fast driving my shoulder into his stomach and forcing his back against the tree. I grabbed his head in both of my hands and brought it down to connect with my knee. He threw punches at my sides and kidneys, and though I felt the blows they were nothing to me.

I backhanded him with closed fists and he finally went down to his knees. I went behind him, threading my arms beneath his and gripping my hands together behind his neck, dragging him to his feet.

I had one moment to wonder where this was coming from. I'd certainly been trained to kill, but the mechanics were theoretical, something for the training room.

Suddenly I heard Katniss scream my name, calling me to task, and my moment of reflection evaporated as I drove his body toward the ground, using his weight and mine to snap his neck.

I heard the cannon sound as I dropped his body and I fled without looking back, realizing with some regret that I'd just committed murder, and that I had, after all, become a piece in the games.

I yelled her name as loud as I could, my voice breaking at the end. I stopped when she did not answer. Dread and grief began to fill my body again.

_Had she bled to death while I was fighting? _

I had not heard another cannon but being a veteran of the games I knew the sound of two cannons could mask one another. The last time I'd heard her voice we had been in close proximity and I believed she must be nearby. I took two steps in her direction, before the sky exploded with what seemed to be lightning and the ground went out from underneath me. I landed on my back hard, and was left staring out of the artificial sky into the dark night of the real one. A tear trickled from each of my eyes, as much from the blow to my head when it hit the ground as from my sudden realization that none of us would survive...that the arena was forfeit, and Peacekeepers would soon be coming to collect all that was left of us.

I struggled to sit up, but before I did I saw the strangest sight. Bright lights were erupting in the real sky, and it seemed like gunfire. Suddenly a hovercraft appeared not fifty feet to my left and a claw descended. I waited, steeling myself for the worst, and suddenly I saw her being lifted into the air, as the bright tracers of gunfire and missiles continued to fire at the hovercraft from outside the arena. I strained to see if she was alive, and I thought I saw her reach her hand up to her head before the claw pulled her completely inside the ship.

I felt a mixture of confusion, relief and dread. This extraction was different in some way, and I felt sure suddenly that she was not in danger...that this was some kind of escape.

At that moment I heard Finnick moaning my name and Johanna's, and his voice was strange and garbled, as if he had something stuck in his mouth. His voice was coming from a location near where Katniss had been taken by the hovercraft. I stood and started moving toward it. I saw another claw descend, and this time it emerged with both Beetee and Finnick in its grip. It pulled them safely inside. I was within twenty feet when a giant explosion rocked the ship, and suddenly it began to climb, slowly at first, and started to move out of the arena.

"Wait!" I heard a mournful scream coming from behind me and I turned to see Johanna running toward the clearing where Katniss, Beetee, and Finnick had just been taken. "No!" she cried, and I heard true desperation in her voice for the first time. She waved her arms at the hovercraft but it was outside of the arena now, and I could hear the engine starting to spin up like they were about to leave in a hurry. Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, it was gone.

I came into the clearing behind Johanna who was looking up at where the ship had been. She was so immersed in looking up that she didn't see Enobaria crouching low and coming at her from behind. I broke into a run, feeling for a brief moment the pain in my leg, and I threw the full weight of my body into Enobaria, gripping her by the throat as I slammed her head down into the ground. I held her in a chokehold, wild in my anger and confusion and grief.

I barely noticed when Johanna crouched beside me and placed her hand on my arm.

Oddly, her voice was gentle.

"You can let her go Peeta. It is okay. It's over. It would be better for us anyway if she had killed us."

I caught a look of confusion on Enobaria's face right before I turned to Johanna with one of my own. I loosened my grip, but did not release her, and I could hear her breath coming in whistling gasps between her sharpened teeth.

"What do you mean?" I asked. The words had barely left my lips before what seemed like a battalion of peacekeepers came stomping into the clearing.

"Because the Capitol has us now," she said, and though her former icy countenance returned to her face her voice shook.


	6. Prelude to Darkness

**Prelude to Darkness**

I woke up to my fourth day in my room at the training center. The morning light slanted in through the window and glinted off of the crystal glass that sat on my bedside table. It had been placed there by one of the Avox attendants when they came to turn down the bed, but I hadn't touched it. There was some kind of drug in the food and water they were giving me, I was pretty sure of it. I'd noticed that I felt odd on the first day back at the training center, though I chalked that up to the stress of being in the arena and the shock of everything that had happened. But then I woke up feeling sedate and disconnected on both the second and third days. I refused to eat or drink anything at dinner on the third night.

But that fourth morning I could tell that I felt more alert and my thoughts were clearer. I lay there for a long time, not moving, just staring at the glass. I knew I would be okay for a while without food, but water was going to be a problem. I figured I'd try to drink a bit of water in the shower and see if it affected me.

It was strange being there without Katniss. And Haymitch. My Avox attendants were my only company and if they had been apprehensive before it was clear that they were now terrified.

I saw Portia in the medical facility immediately following my retrieval from the arena. She was there to make sure that I got put back together properly from an aesthetic point of view, but we hadn't been left alone, and her behavior toward me was cold and removed. At one point I tried to ask her quietly if she was okay, but she avoided eye contact and said nothing. Moments later I noticed that she was shaking and a silent tear cut down her cheek. I didn't try talking to her after that.

Once I was put back together I was brought to the training center. I expected to at least see Effie, but she remained absent. I tried to maintain my composure, but in truth the seclusion and lack of information was wearing on my nerves. I would not allow myself to think anything other than that Katniss was somewhere else that was safe. I was concerned for Johanna, as I hadn't seen her since our extraction. I had no information at all concerning anyone that I cared about, nor did I have any feel for what my own fate might be.

I roused myself from bed and set about getting showered and dressed, drinking a small amount of water in the shower. I felt no ill effects but I was sure that once the fact that I wasn't eating or drinking was noticed they would doctor my tap water. I emerged from the bedroom to a surprise.

"Effie," I said, purposefully keeping my voice calm.

"Peeta," she said, a mechanical smile on her lips, her eyes over-wide. "You look very well."

"Thank you."

We looked at one another silently for several seconds and though her smile never changed, her eyes faltered, looked down and to the side, and in that instant I knew that she had come with ill tidings.

"Peeta…I'm here to take you to a meeting. A very, very important meeting. All right?"

I smiled at her wanly.

"Do I have a choice, Effie?"

Her smile fell a little at one corner and I saw that she was shaking.

"No. You must come."

I nodded and walked toward her.

"Am I fine going like this?" I asked, indicating my rather simple clothing, which would be out of place in the Capitol.

"Yes…you look just perfect," she said, her smile returning, though it was accompanied by a hysterical look in her eyes.

I knew then that we wouldn't be going out in public in the Capitol, nor would my meeting be televised. Fear as cold as ice filled my veins.

I smiled at Effie warmly.

"Okay, Effie, let's go."

We were taken by an underground shuttle to a location that I had never been, and as I was unfamiliar with the Capitol at large I was completely without my bearings. Neither of us spoke during the trip, though I did watch her. She had an oddly vacant expression on her face when she wasn't trying to interact with another person, though the whites of her eyes were more visible than I ever remembered them being prior to the Quell.

We arrived at an underground bunker with no windows. There didn't seem to be any rooms, only dark hallways to walk down and metal doors to walk through. By the time we reached our final destination I was sweating and could barely conceal my shaking. A final door was opened and I was escorted into a room that was nothing but bright white light and stainless steel.

I took vague note of people dressed in medical garb and trays holding instruments. But what had my full attention was the sight of Johanna strapped to a gurney that was centered over a drain. I didn't think, I just took several steps toward her, and I was immediately flanked and held back by the guards who had escorted Effie and I into the building.

"Johanna." Her name came out of my mouth reflexively, though it was barely audible. She was laying on her back and her head turned toward me. She had not been patched up or made beautiful again after the Quell. Her face was pale and drawn with pain, her eyes like hollow pools. She looked like she wanted to say something to me, but before she could a young woman walked into the room. When Johanna saw her she flinched and looked away.

"Ah…Mr. Mellark," the woman said.

I nodded at her. She was unadorned in the Capitol fashion, her dark hair pulled back in a severe bun that made her icy blue eyes stand out even more dramatically. Her face was all points and angles. When she stepped up to me we were nearly eye-to-eye.

"My name is Dr. Whyte. As I understand it we are on a rather tight schedule so we are going to get right to it. I need you to listen to everything I say very, very carefully. Do you understand?"

"Yes," I said, my voice just above a whisper.

"In a few minutes you are going to be taken to be prepped for a televised interview with Caesar Flickerman. During that interview you will be asked questions pertaining to the Quarter Quell. I suggest that you tell the truth," she said, and her left eyebrow went up. "Mr. Flickerman will also ask you for your opinion on the war and the rebellion…"

"Wait…what war?" I looked from her to Effie, feeling a small spark of anger in the haze of my fear.

_I'd been out of the Quell for less than a week and there was a war?_

Effie looked openly terrified. When I looked back at Dr. Whyte she looked irritated.

"Don't interrupt me again Mr. Mellark. As I was saying you will be asked your opinion on the war. You are to follow your scripted answers to the letter. If you stray even the slightest bit I will do this to Johanna."

She signaled to one of the medical orderlies who walked over to Johanna's side and picked up a syringe from the tray of instruments. Johanna started to cry a terrible, high-pitched keening, and I lunged toward her. I was immediately grabbed by the guards and pulled back. The orderly yanked Johanna's arm away from her side and injected her with the contents of the syringe. All at once she went quiet. The silence hung in the air for five long seconds, before her sharp intake of breath tore it in half. Her back arched off of the gurney as she emitted a scream unlike anything I'd ever heard. A continuous terrible rhythm ensued that consisted of silence during her inhalations and her shrieks. Tears streamed from both of her eyes and her mouth frothed with spittle. Her arms and legs wrenched against the restraints and with her back arched I couldn't see how they didn't snap from the effort.

Suddenly I was being dragged from the room by the guards, and I was vaguely aware of Effie's sharp footfalls on the cement ahead of me. We had to pass through several of the metal doors before I could no longer hear Johanna's screams.

When we reached the outside of the bunker I was finally released by the guards. It took all of my strength to remain on my feet I was so badly shaken. Effie was leaning against the shuttle shaking and taking deep breaths, her eyes locked on the ground.

"Mr. Mellark."

I spun in the direction of Dr. Whyte's voice. I hadn't realized she followed us out.

"I trust that you will follow my instructions to the letter. We wouldn't want Johanna to have to suffer because you decide to be stubborn. I'm fairly certain that the only person's life you were ever prepared to sacrifice was your own."

She smiled, showing me all of her teeth.

I nodded my assent, pressing my back against the shuttle next to Effie.

"Very good, Mr. Mellark. I look forward to our next encounter. Have a nice chat with Caesar."

I watched her turn and walk back toward the facility and I was suddenly struck by the coldest thought I'd yet to experience. If I moved quickly enough I could be on her in seconds, grab her head and snap her neck. I'd probably die for such an act, perhaps immediately, but this woman frightened me more than any other single person ever had in my life and I didn't want her anywhere near Johanna.

_I look forward to our next encounter. _

I started to take a step but Effie grabbed my arm.

"No," she hissed under her breath. "We must go now. We have a schedule to keep."

Dr. Whyte disappeared behind the metal door and with her went my one opportunity to kill the first true monster I'd ever met.

Effie ushered me into the shuttle. As soon as the doors closed she produced a bottle from the satchel she'd been clutching. She fumbled with the stopper her hands were shaking so hard. When she finally wrenched it free she took several long sips of the liquid within.

"Here Peeta, drink this. You'll need it to get through your interview."

"I don't want to be drugged Effie."

"Listen to me," she snarled quietly through her teeth. It was the first time I'd ever seen her really lose her cool. "You need to be flawless in this…there is zero room for error or we will all be made to suffer. Do you understand me?"

I looked at her for a long time before I took the bottle from her.

"What makes you think, Effie, that we won't all suffer anyway, no matter what we do?"

I took a long swig from the bottle.

* * *

It was easy to get through the interview with Caesar. Whatever Effie had given me left me clearheaded yet unnaturally calm. I was dressed and appropriately primped before taking the stage. I followed the instructions that they gave me to the letter without making a single misstep.

The one positive thing that came out of the interview for me was confirmation of Katniss's survival, and I clung to that fact like a life raft. How anyone had talked her into becoming a key figure in the rebellion was beyond me, but I hoped that whatever tactics they were using on her did not resemble the tactics that were being used on me.

After the interview I was escorted into a dark room with deep couches and thick carpets. The guards left the room and closed the door behind them.

"Peeta."

I jumped a little and turned in the direction of his voice.

He was standing in the window, his silhouette dark against the city lights.

"President Snow," I said, freezing where I stood by the door.

He spoke without turning toward me.

"You did a wonderful job during your interview with Caesar. Your repartee was masterful as usual."

I neither spoke nor moved, but my heart started galloping in my chest. Several seconds passed before he turned toward me. I couldn't make out the features of his face, but I had the sense that his eyes were boring into me in the dark.

"Panem will be requiring your services for the foreseeable future."

"My services?"

"Yes…your face, your voice. The people of Panem will need to see that you are a supporter of our great country. And that you disagree with this treasonous rebellion and anyone who is associated with it."

"What do people care what I think?"

I saw the president's teeth flash in the dark.

"Peeta…most people are sheep, you know that. You are no stranger to the art of manipulation, in fact, I rather think you are something of a master of it. Moving the hearts of the country based on a fiction…and with such an inept and reluctant accomplice."

I did not react outwardly, but the words cut.

"You alone were capable of moving Ms. Everdeen like a piece on a chessboard. And now you will move her for us."

"How am I going to do that?

"Your voice, or lack thereof, will crush her spirit."

I didn't say anything. I simply looked at him, and for perhaps the first time I really studied him. I remembered Katniss's description of him from their meeting in her home. I knew how much his words had terrified her. I knew I should feel a similar terror, but at that moment I felt oddly detached from this interchange.

The truth was that I felt certain that he was capable of making me say anything that he wanted me to on camera, and I was sure that there was an underground cell containing instruments of torture and syringes of chemicals that had my name on them.

But the worst thing that he could have done to me he had not achieved, which was to kill Katniss, and I found strength in that fact.

I forced myself to smile then, and I fixed him with my eyes.

"You may have your flock of Capitol sheep surrounding you, President Snow, but I imagine that the wolves from the districts are rising up as we speak and will be coming for you. Crushing Katniss's spirit will take more than turning me into your mouthpiece. She's really beyond you."

"And what if we turn you into more than a mouthpiece? What if we make a spectacle of you?"

Fear seized in my chest but I forced it down with every last bit of my will.

"Dr. Whyte is quite good at what she does Peeta. You've seen but a small measure of what she is capable of...physical pain is very compelling. But psychological pain can be even more stirring.

"She had perfected a technique whereby we can alter memories. She can take away your memories one at a time and remake them. By the time she is finished you will not have one good memory of Katniss Everdeen in your head. You will remember her only as the deceitful, vicious turncoat she really is. So beyond any signs of your physical torture that Katniss may see on our televised reports, and believe me she will see them, how do you think she will like hearing you spew venomous and hurtful things about her?"

My blood froze in my veins.

"You can't make me hate Katniss."

"Oh on the contrary, Mr. Mellark, we have made mothers hate their own children. Compared to that it will be quick work to turn your mind against Ms. Everdeen, particularly since her loyalties to you have always been in question. We have plenty of material to work with."

I was speechless and as if reading my mind President Snow said,

"No clever retorts this time, Peeta? I'm surprised. You've always been so quick to think on your feet."

I continued to stare at him mutely, my mind a snarl of fear and anger.

"No? All right then."

He pressed a button on the desk.

"Mr. Mellark is ready to be transported to his new living quarters in Dr. Whyte's research facility."

The guards entered the room and flanked me, one of them putting his hand on my shoulder and moving me toward the door. I paused, resisting the slight push on my shoulder.

"President Snow." I said, forcing my voice not to shake.

"Yes, Peeta?"

"I don't expect that anything that I am about to say is going to change what happens to me but I think you should know something. Loyalty as my lover may not have suited Katniss, but our friendship is strong. I think you are underestimating the effect that this will have on her. Knowing Katniss, if anything you will only piss her off more."

"I guess we'll see."

"I'd count on it. Oh…and I wouldn't walk by any windows. She is an excellent shot and from quite a distance. Always gets them through the eye."

Something flickered in his eyes, though I couldn't hope that it was fear. Perhaps it was nothing more than a shift of light, but I thought that I saw something resembling resignation, that this wasn't going to be so easy after all.

He waved his hand as if he wanted me out of his sight.

And then I was taken to the place where I lost myself.

* * *

**AN: Please read and review! I'm in need of a bit of cheerleading here as I'm not sure how far down this dark path I want to go and I really need to get through this in order to get to some happy scenes at the end. I am obviously wandering into Mockingjay territory here so this is no longer going to end with Catching Fire. Thank you to everyone who is reading and reviewing! **


	7. Real or Not

**Real or Not**

"Rescue."

I heard the word but it held no meaning for me. I was down in the underneath part of myself, down deep, where there didn't seem to be any nerve endings or emotions or need. I learned to dwell there whenever I could and though it was dark and numb it was solitary which was safe.

Of course Whyte and needles and mutts dragged me out of my underneath every so often. They'd lay me on a table and make me feel like they'd flayed me almost to my bones and set my blood on fire. I was always a little bit surprised when I'd look at myself afterwards and see that my skin was still attached.

Not that there weren't scars.

But I was in my underneath when I heard the word 'rescue' and a part of me recoiled from it.

There was danger in rescue, though I couldn't put my finger on why that was. It was an elusive feeling, almost like a name or word that had slipped my mind.

I wasn't safe here…but I wasn't safe _there _either. It was a puzzle, but I couldn't quite wrap my brain around it.

WWWWW

"_Alpha Unit this is Bravo Unit. Do you copy? Over."_

"_Bravo, this is Alpha. Go ahead. Over."_

"_We have intel on the location of Seven. We are moving into position. Over."_

"_Bravo, you are clear to get into position but do not move until we have located Twelve and Two. Over."_

"_Roger that. Over."_

WWWWW

She nuzzled into my neck, her hand clutching the shirt on my chest. We were lying on the damp, hard ground and the rain outside of the cave was beating down with a vengeance. The pain in my leg was ever-present, though not so bad as it was before the medicine. At that moment I could bear it. I leaned my cheek on the top of her head and suddenly her face came up, her eyes meeting mine.

_Her eyes. _

One eye was real and hard and grey. The pupil was dilated. I had occasionally seen this look in her eyes and others' before.

_Others._

This look betrayed her desire and need, something that she was only beginning to become aware of but did not understand. But it was unwanted by her and that was something that I did not understand.

Her other eye was blood red and animal and not real, but that did not matter. It was who she was to me now, who she would be to me forever. What was behind that eye grew, gnarled and malignant, straight into the core of her, rotted her, and twisted her into something vile.

I dreaded her.

But I kissed her anyway. Her mouth tasted like a collapsed mineshaft, cinders and dust. I knew that was what her father tasted as he died.

"He doesn't even realize," I heard her say, and I could hear a smile on her lips. I stopped kissing her and looked up to see another version of her, one with normal eyes, standing against the wall of the cave. She had her shoulder pressed up against the wall, and she was looking up into the face of a tall, young man who had his back turned to me.

"I could never love him. He's nothing to me but a ticket out of this mess. It is you that I want." She reached up and took his face in her hands and kissed him deeply.

I looked back at the Katniss that was curled up next to me. Her other eye had turned red and her teeth had begun to lengthen and grow into points. The sight of her made me sick and I felt ashamed and angry. I pulled away from her and I felt the tension in her body start to coil. As she sat up her posture became menacing.

"I will finish what I started with those wasps," I heard the Katniss on the wall say to her companion, and there was a fair amount of amusement in her voice. "I will send them flying right into the heart of him."

Without warning the red-eyed Katniss threw her fist into my chest and I felt it pass all the way through my body. She stared at me with calm indifference and I tried to take a breath to beg for her mercy, to tell her I forgave her for not loving me, to ask for a simple pardon, that I could be left to die in peace.

That was when the wasps flew into my chest cavity and filled every last inch of me with their bodies. They fought one another, stinging each other and stinging me, the venom filling up all the space that was left. And then I burned with it from the inside out. I tried to scream but I had no tongue. The wasps had devoured everything inside of me. They made me into their hive.

I heard Katniss laughing.

WWWWW

"_Bravo and Delta Units, this is Alpha, do you copy? Over."_

"_This is Bravo, go ahead Alpha. Over."_

"_Copy that Alpha, this is Delta. Over."_

"_We have located Twelve and are moving into position. Over."_

"_Roger that Alpha, Bravo will stay in position on Seven until you give the order. Over."_

"_This is Delta, we have still not found position of Two. Over."_

"_Keep searching for location of Two and if you find it move into position. This is Alpha. Over."_

WWWWW

My arms strained against the restraints, my fists tight, and my fingernails embedded in my skin.

"There is nothing left for you," the voice said. I knew it was Whyte and I ground my teeth together. "She is lost to you, but you never had her did you Peeta? She was never yours."

_No._

"She will be dead soon…in less than twelve hours. She and the rebellion will be crushed. Buried alive…poetic when you consider that you both come from a mining district.

"Do you think that she's thought about it? What it is like to be buried alive?"

_It was her only dream…her only nightmare. That is before the Games. _

"No," I growled.

"No?" she asked. "I find that hard to believe. It is how her father died."

"You know an awful lot about her, doctor. Too bad you don't have her here to work on…it seems she's all you ever want to talk about."

"It's because she's on your mind so much."

I didn't say anything.

The silence stretched on and I could hear her moving around the room. I kept my eyes closed. I learned to wait and rest between sessions. Sometimes it was a matter of minutes and sometime it was a matter of days…sometimes it was hard to really tell the difference.

"You have an interview with Caesar tonight, Peeta. And you know…Johanna is not doing well. Her treatments have been a bit different from yours. While we've been picking apart your brain, we've been dismantling her body, though you'd never know it from looking at her. But her heart, her lungs, her brain…they are damaged. Even if we left her alone from this moment on she'd probably be dead in just a few short years. It would really be better for her if it ended quickly. What do you think Peeta? Should you make a mistake tonight…set Johanna free?"

I opened my eyes.

_What was she saying? _

I looked over at her. She was dressed as she always was, in a knee length black dress with a long white coat, her hair pulled back in a severe bun. Her cobalt eyes burned.

I knew this was her game. She gave me information and then I'd torture myself with it…was it real? Should I risk leaking it during the interview? Was Johanna really in such bad shape? What would they really do?

And if it was real why was she telling me? What was in it for her?

And what did I really care anymore about the rebellion or the war or Kat…t…t…

It felt like I had snagged something in my mind on something sharp and jagged.

I kept my mouth shut.

"I think that you are smart, Peeta," she said, her voice honeyed with sincerity. "Why don't we go see Johanna?"

They wheeled me into Johanna's room, not her cell, but the room where she received her treatments. She was standing in the middle of the room wearing a thin medical gown. Her hands were clasped in front of her, a look of resignation on her face. She was standing in a shallow bowl of water.

"How are you today Johanna?"

"I am well, Dr. Whyte," she answered immediately as if she had anticipated the question. "And you?" Her voice was removed and almost sweet.

"Good, Johanna, I am good. Thank you for asking. Peeta is here to see you Johanna."

Johanna looked at me and she said nothing.

"Why don't you say hello to him Johanna?" Dr. Whyte asked.

"The last time I said hello to him he lunged at me and tried to break my neck…and then I had a drowning day."

"Johanna…I've explained to you before. He thought you were someone else. Peeta would never harm you. Would you Peeta?"

I was beyond confused. I had no memory of seeing Johanna before, let alone of attacking her. Why I would attack any person was beyond me, except for maybe Dr. Whyte.

WWWWW

"_Alpha, this is Delta. Over."_

"_Go ahead Delta. Over."_

"_We can find no sign of Two on the premises. Over."_

"_This is Alpha, Delta have you accomplished two sweeps? Over."_

"_Yes, Alpha. Say again, there is no sign of Two ever having been here. Over."_

"_Copy that Delta. Fall back to rendezvous position and hold. Over."_

"_Roger that Alpha. Over."_

WWWWW

Caeser was looking at me and I could tell that he was disturbed, which was really entertaining when I considered how many children he talked to the night before they were sent to slaughter. Had he honestly thought that what was happening to me was worse than what those kids had gone through? Their lives, families, friends, hopes and dreams were about to be taken from them. Most of them had a less than one percent chance of surviving.

When we were alone for a moment he looked around the room hurriedly before placing his hand on my shoulder.

"Peeta…I'm so sorry…I'm so sorry…"

I wanted to tell him to go to hell, but I was afraid that if I said something off-script I would actually forget the script…that it would fall off the page of my mind and land on the ground at my feet. I could imagine all the letters and punctuation marks piling up on the floor.

I started chuckling a little at the thought of that, but then I remembered what would happen to Johanna if I forgot the script, so I screwed my mouth shut tight and hoped none of the letters had fallen off the page.

Suddenly the room got quiet. A long dark shadow loomed in front of me.

"There has been a change of plans everyone. I will be speaking tonight to the people of Panem. There will be no interview Caesar. I'll be asking the questions and talking with Mr. Mellark."

I finally looked up and saw President Snow standing in front of me.

_She and the rebellion will be crushed. Less than twelve hours. _

An odd thought entered my mind.

_I am finished._

I knew something that was important and I was going to say it. Even if they killed Johanna. In fact, I hoped that they would kill her…I knew that she wanted to die. She'd said it to me silently when she was standing in the bowl of water.

And so what if they killed me?

At some point during my thinking they started the broadcast and when President Snow asked me a question I started with the script. I tried to follow it but the part of me that was finished didn't want to, so all at once I dropped the page in my mind, spilling all of those letters that were so important to mine and Johanna's survival. I imagined them piling up on the floor at my feet. I'd make sure that I stepped on them when I got up…really crushed them into the ground when I was finished.

I told the secret that Dr. Whyte had told me.

_Why had she done that? Maybe it was real, maybe it wasn't. _

It didn't matter anymore once I got it all out and then I was knocked to the ground and someone was hitting me very hard and I was breaking open. I didn't care though. Maybe the wasps would escape and sting someone else for a change.

WWWWW

"_Bravo Unit this is Alpha. Are you in possession of Seven? Over."_

"_Alpha this is Bravo, we have Seven, we repeat, we have Seven. Over."_

"_Commence extraction of Seven at this time Bravo and start the count. We will be right behind you with Twelve. This is Alpha. Over."_

"_Copy that Alpha. Over."_

WWWWW

"Hey, bro."

I came out of my underneath. I was in my cell. Four walls, a cot and a bucket. There was a thin shaft of light coming through the window at the top of the door. I wasn't sure, but it looked like the door might be slightly ajar, which I knew was madness. I was lying on my back, clutching the front of my shirt for warmth, waiting for the pain to begin. But it didn't come. I slowly sat up.

I kept my eyes closed for a few moments, wrapping my arms around my middle, and clutching at my back. I could easily feel my ribs through the skin there, and I thought about the last time I had caught a look at my face. I remembered wondering at how thin I looked, how drawn, and a terrible thought entered my mind. _This is how the kids from the Seam look…this is what she looked like when she was dying in the rain and I threw her the bread._

But that thought brought with it an unexpected and unpleasant flood of fear and revulsion, so I put it out of my mind. I couldn't worry about other kids dying when I was the one actually dying.

I heard a rustling to my left and turned my head, opening my eyes.

Bralin was sitting at the foot of my bed.

At first I didn't know what to do. I knew that a lot of the things that I saw weren't real, and that sometimes I'd see things that I wanted to see that then turned into something awful and I didn't want that to happen with Bralin.

"It is good to see you brother," he said mildly, and he reached his hand out and put it on my bare foot. His touch was warm and reassuring and real.

I tried to fight back tears but I was so relieved to see him. I moved to sit down next to him and I leaned my shoulder into him. He felt real, but I couldn't be sure. I wanted him to be real, but I didn't want him to be here. I'd never want Bralin to be in this hellish pit of misery.

"You've been doing really well Peet. I know this has been tough."

He put his arm around me and he pulled me closer to him. I suddenly flashed on us in a similar position when we were little boys, him pulling me in closer when we were hiding under the cupboard as mother raged around in the kitchen looking for us. We'd done something wrong and we were going to get a beating, but Bralin had looked at me, his eight year old face so serious.

"I'll not let her touch you, Peet," he said. "None of this was your idea and it wasn't your fault. I'll take it for you. She's not going to touch you."

I had been four at the time, and scared out of my mind, but I looked into his eyes and trusted him completely and I felt safe.

And that was how I felt now, which a part of me knew was insane.

"The world has gone crazy Peeta," he said gently. "And you are caught in the great spinning wheel of it. But you stay alive, wait it out and you'll see…you will survive. Things will come around."

"When?" I whispered, the unbidden tears finally falling down my face and into my lap. I had made myself ready to die. I didn't think I was prepared for rescue. The very thought exhausted me.

"They are coming for you now. I know that you are confused and that you don't trust them. But they will not do this to you anymore, and that alone makes them the good guys. So go with them. You don't have to trust them, but you have to go with them or you will die here."

I looked up into his eyes, which were blue and strong and healthy. I knew that he was telling me the truth. And then I also knew something else.

"You're dead." I said, my voice catching on the last word and I clung to his side like I did when I was four.

He was silent for a long time.

"Not going to be able to look out for you any longer, Peet. It's true. You'll make your own way though…you have been doing that for a long time anyway."

I stopped crying and became very quiet then as sudden knowledge came to me: my whole family was gone. I'd never again see Taber or my father and mother. The grief that I felt was crushing.

"I have something very important to tell you Peeta, and you have to try to remember it even though I know that they've made a mess of your head."

"What is it?" I asked, composing myself, and looking up at him.

"You have to try to remember who the real enemy is."

"What do you mean?" I was genuinely confused, because I had no idea what he was talking about. At that moment I could think of no enemies other than Whyte and Snow and torture.

"I mean that there may come a time when certain people, a person, may seem like a threat…but you have to remember who the real enemy is. Can you try to do that?"

"Of course," I said.

"Good," he said, putting his hand on my back. "That's good little brother."

"Will I see you again?" I asked and my voice almost sounded like the little kid version of me.

He stared out ahead of himself for a few moments.

"In time we will see one another again."

"Will you tell dad and Taber…and mother…"

I looked up at him and suddenly he was looking at me with eyes that were wise and timeless and finished. I knew in that moment that what I thought I knew about life was far from complete, and that he had seen everything, and that it was fathomless to a person who was still alive.

He smiled at me and squeezed my arm reassuringly.

"Of course."

WWWWW

"_Bravo and Delta this is Alpha, are you there? Over."_

"_We are at the rendezvous position Alpha. Over."_

"_We have Twelve but have been engaged. We repeat. We are being engaged. Require immediate backup. Over."_

"_Copy that Alpha, Bravo Unit on route. Delta to hold the extraction position. Over."_

"_Roger that, Bravo. Twelve is the primary concern…all other personnel are expendable, I repeat, all other personnel are expendable. We must get Twelve out. Over."_

"_Copy that Alpha. Over."_

* * *

**AN: I'll be very interested to hear what people think of this chapter. I'm not going to say much more than that because I don't want to taint anything. More darkness ahead...grrrr...**

**Speaking of that...thank you, thank you, thank you to SpiritofEowyn for the review and especially the cheerleading;-) It made me so happy AND gave me the impetus to sit down and just write it, unpleasant or not. I also want to thank Of Pearls and Paints, SponserMusings and babyCyclops for your continued support and feedback. It helps me so much. **

**I'd like to say I hope that you enjoy this chapter...but that would be creepy.**

**Also a quick note. This story will cross over with my other Hunger Games piece called _The Time It Takes. _That is going to be several chapters from now but I just wanted to let you know it is coming in case you want to read that one too. Hint, hint;-) It is different, I PROMISE!**


	8. Sessions

**AN: PLEASE READ FIRST...IT IS IMPORTANT TO UNDERSTANDING THIS CHAPTER**. **Most of you who have been following this story know by now that this is not a chapter by chapter retelling of this story. This chapter presents a challenge because I skip through several scenes and chapters. I elected to put them all in one piece because I thought they went together. If anyone needs clarification on where a particular scene fits in the book please feel free to PM me. **

**Sessions**

I was lying on my back in a room that hummed. Whether it was from the lighting or from the machinery they had me hooked up to I didn't know. It was so loud that it disturbed my sleep. Not that I slept that much.

"What did you expect?" Dr. Whyte asked, sitting in a chair to the left of my bed. She looked markedly different than she had when we were in her Capitol dungeon. Her black hair was still pulled back in the bun and her eyes still streamed bright, hard blue, but her skin was a deep, blood red. She wore the white coat but it was buttoned up tight to her neck. I suspected that something was hiding under the coat but I was afraid to comment on it. "Did you think things would be better here?"

She gave me a look that I suspected was supposed to appear sympathetic, but with her skin all bloody and the thing crawling around in her jacket the effort was lost on me.

I quietly looked at her for a few moments, waiting to see if there was any movement from under the jacket, before responding.

"What makes you think I'm unhappy here?" I asked.

"You were up half the night screaming," she said matter-of-factly.

"I was up most of the night and day screaming when I was with you," I answered, struggling to keep my voice calm.

"They have you strapped down here all the time…at least we let you free when you were in your cell," she said, and though I hated to admit it she was right.

"They don't understand yet," I reasoned, feeling a bit panicky. "I have to make them see that they have a traitor here…that there is someone here who is not what she seems."

"A traitor to who, Peeta?"

I was silent.

A traitor to _them_. But who where _they_?

A traitor to the Capitol. Wasn't I a traitor to the Capitol too?

Then what?

_A traitor to me. _

Maybe she was a traitor to everyone all at once…I didn't know.

All that I knew was that she was a mutt and that she was living in District Thirteen without restriction while I was restrained to the bed.

"I was up half the night screaming because of nightmares," I said hostilely. "And I'm pretty sure it was you that put them in my head."

She smiled at me wickedly and tipped her head to the side. That she didn't try to deny it was predictable. She stood up from the chair that she was sitting in and started walking around the foot of my bed.

The room I was in was small with pale green walls and cement floors. One entire wall was mirrored, so I assumed that I was being watched. There was a lot of stainless steel, but even more monitoring equipment. I had so much equipment hooked up to me that it made me feel restrained but I was also tied to the bed at my ankles and wrists. But at least the bed was comfortable with a pillow and blankets. And I was fed and bathed regularly and allowed to exercise.

At least here they didn't treat me like an animal.

"I'm never going to leave you," Dr. Whyte purred and I shuddered, feeling a kind of resignation that she was right. "You will always have me scratching around in you head to remind you of what a failure you have turned out to be. You should be ashamed for loving someone who is less than human…do you feel ashamed Peeta?"

I stared at the cracked ceiling and the yellowing fan that turned in a lazy circle over my head.

"I have a present for you."

My stomach turned over.

"It is one of my special muttations. I think that you are going to like it very much.

She reached into her coat and pulled something out of it. I was afraid to look, and turned away staring at the mirrored wall. If only they could see how she still tortured me…how she still lived in my mind, this beast of a woman who had cut into me in ways I didn't think were possible.

She placed the thing on my chest and I could feel the weight of it and the wet slime seep through the thin hospital gown I was wearing. It started to move up my chest. I finally could stand it no longer, and I looked down at it. The thing appeared to be some kind of large, fat bug, its body white except for where her red, bloody hands had been holding onto it before she placed it on my chest.

"Think of it as a pet, something to remind you of our time together."

"Get it off of me," I choked, trying to move away up higher in the bed. Bright pops of light started to flash behind my eyes, and I knew that I was only moments away from slipping into an episode, where I would lose all sense of reality.

It was up to my neck, and it extended one of its long slippery feelers onto my face, pushing its way into my nose. I opened my mouth and screamed, and that is when more feelers shot into my mouth.

The door to the room opened and I heard Dr. Whyte cackle.

"Ah, the cavalry is here," she said sardonically. "Night, night Peeta."

I felt the cold liquid seep into my arm through the IV but it seemed to take a terribly long time since all the while the creature was wriggling its way into my mouth.

As I lost consciousness I caught a glimpse of Dr. Whyte waving.

"See you next time," I heard her say, and then I was gone into a nightmare.

* * *

I was sitting in a chair, dressed in pants and a shirt for the first time since coming to Thirteen. I'd insisted upon it. I was sick of people seeing me restrained in a bed wearing a hospital gown. The fact that my hands and arms were bound to the chair by medical restraints was an unfortunate non-negotiable term of my being able to have the meeting. I tried to make my case, that I was getting better, that I was safe…but my powers of manipulation weren't what they once were and they told me that I either wore the restraints or I didn't get to talk to Haymitch.

So I reluctantly agreed.

There was a light knock on the door.

"Come in," I called.

He walked into the room.

I was immediately struck by how thin he was and he had a yellow cast to his skin and a hollowness in his eyes that I'd never seen before. Rather than feeling pity anger rose like gore in my throat.

"Hey, Peeta," he said quietly, lingering near the door, his eyes drifting to the mirrored wall, behind which I knew several people were standing, watching my every move.

"Haymitch."

"You look well." The corner of his mouth turned up.

"You look like shit," I said evenly. "No stills here in Thirteen?"

He smiled and nodded his head, looking down at his feet.

"Yeah, they've been weaning me off…medically. Pumping me full of chemicals to try to help with the withdrawal. But it's not going that great. Lots of side effects and I feel pretty awful most of the time."

"Really," I said, acerbically. "I have no idea what being pumped full of chemicals might feel like."

He nodded and looked at his feet for a bit before raising his eyes to meet mine.

We were silent for a while, just looking at one another. It felt like he was taking his measure of me, and that there was a question that he wanted to ask.

"What is it?" I asked and my throat tightened as if hostility was wrapping itself around my neck like a snake.

"I want to talk about Katniss," he began, "specifically what happened with her the last time you saw her."

It felt like broken glass had lodged itself in my forehead, and I clenched my fists, squeezing my eyes shut.

"I don't want to talk about her yet, Haymitch. Thinking about her tends to make a lot of unpleasant doors open up in my head, and things come out of them, some of which make me act a little crazy. Besides, I'm going to be the one asking you questions."

"Okay," he said tentatively, backing off.

"You picked Katniss's survival over mine…is that real?"

"Yes," he said without hesitation.

"And you did that because District Thirteen wanted you to…to turn her into some kind of a figurehead."

"Yes."

"And it wasn't because you had made a promise to me to keep her safe."

His eyes broke, searching the floor for an answer; presumably one that wasn't quite the truth before he finally heaved a sigh.

"No. Peeta, the ends were mutually beneficial, but in truth nothing that I did was because of the promise I made to you." He stood with outstretched palms, beseeching me for what I did not know. It couldn't possibly be forgiveness. Haymitch was not a creature that required it.

I surveyed him harshly and said nothing.

"I was a cog in a wheel, Peeta. I had no choice."

I chucked bitterly.

"The great spinning wheel," I said under my breath, and it seemed like an echo from another age.

"So why not both of us?" I asked, and I finally felt my anger spit oil into the flame in my heart and turn my chest into a house on fire. It was my primary point of contention. It was not that he had done what I'd asked him to do, albeit not for me, but that he had neglected to use his power to save me as well.

The rage I felt threatened to overtake me, so I focused on the restraints around my hands. I pushed my wrists into them, letting the pain keep me in the moment. I didn't want to open a door and let out the demons. The demons that made people look like monsters, like muttations. I wanted my questions answered, and going off the deep end right then wouldn't make that happen.

"I tried to tell them that would be for the best, but they wanted her. She was the primary target. Everyone else was expendable."

"You could have told me of the plans while we were still in the Capitol…I was capable of keeping that information to myself."

"I was under a gag order," he said lamely. "And I was afraid that if I told you that you would be distracted and wouldn't be watching what was going on in the Game…that you'd get yourself killed."

"Or her killed," I growled.

He looked at me sadly.

"Not just her Peeta…I wanted you to live as well. I always wanted that. I just didn't think a miracle like that was possible twice." He looked sad but I wasn't finished with him.

"Did you give me a locket with pictures of her family and Gale in it?"

He winced and nodded, hanging his head and looking away.

"You wanted me to convince her to live and to let me die."

"You told me you wanted the same thing," he said, his voice exasperated as he looked back up at me.

"Yes, Haymitch, I wanted her saved. But given the option I would have liked to be saved as well. You got Beetee and Finnick out all right."

He seemed ready to say something but he swallowed it. Probably recriminations about my letting us get separated during the Games, which I wasn't interested in hearing about.

I was silent for a bit, surveying the room I'd been trapped in for the past couple of weeks. Not so different from Whyte's dungeon. And she still periodically made appearances in my hallucinations and nightmares, neither of which was really distinguishable from the other.

I tried to get back to the issues at hand, but I was starting to see white pops of light and the flashes threatened.

"So now that you have me here what is the plan for me?" I choked out.

"I'm not sure."

"But there is a plan."

"Peeta, there's always a plan with these people."

I looked at the ceiling.

"Well that's fantastic. And good to know."

I eyed him for a long time after that, and he appeared to become uncomfortable.

_Good. _

"I want to see her," I said.

He narrowed his eyes at me and took a couple of measured breaths before answering.

"Are you sure you're ready. The last time you almost killed her."

"That won't happen again."

"What makes you so sure?"

I raised my hands as much as I could.

"Not exactly free to move here. There will probably even be guards in the room," I said, eyeing the mirror. "They must not be too worried about your life anymore, letting you come into the room without protection."

He chuckled and it seemed for a moment that he'd come back to himself a bit.

"No…it seems that I've outlived my usefulness to some extent."

"So you'll bring her?"

He looked at me and I could see the resignation seep into his eyes.

"She may not want to see you."

I laughed bitterly.

"Oh, she'll want to see me. One thing about Katniss…she wants to see where this ends. Her curiosity will get the better of her. She'll want to see if I still worship the ground she walks on. She liked having me on the line. She'll come."

He looked at me for a long time. He drew breath as if to say something else but then seemed to think better of it.

"I'll talk to her," he finally said quietly. He turned to walk out of the room, but not before turning to me. "I'm so sorry Peeta."

The apology shocked me but I could feel several of the doors in my head starting to rattle.

"You'd better go now, Haymitch. I have to go put the finishing touches on Finnick's fucking wedding cake."

* * *

When I entered the kitchen I had to stop and take a moment. I'd been coming there for the past several days to work on the cake, but every time I walked in I felt completely overwhelmed. The room was enormous and bustling with people and it felt strange to be among so many people again. That, however, was not what gave me the most pause. It was all of the gleaming stainless steel and cement floors that sent my mind careening backward in time, back to Whyte and needles and drains in the floor.

Dr. Turner stayed with me, just behind my right shoulder.

"Everything all right, Peeta?" she asked, her voice gentle but confident.

"I…I think so."

"What is it you are not sure about?"

"The umm...the tables...they always remind me a little bit of the gurneys..." I trailed off looking around.

"And that makes you feel…"

"Anxious...uncomfortable."

_Afraid._

But I didn't want to say it.

I was sweating and I clutched my hands together tightly.

"Can you take it so you can finish what you started?"

Her voice was always calm, always logical, taking me step by step through the problem.

I looked around the room again. As usual there was a lot of food on the tables. So I knew that they couldn't be gurneys. And all the people were working on the food. Some were smiling. I heard laughter.

Then I remembered. It was a happy occasion. A wedding.

I took some deep breaths and my hands loosened their grip on one another. I was holding them clasped in the front as I wore restraints, but per Dr. Turner's instructions they would take them off while I was working as long as I didn't have an episode.

"So the finishing touches today, right?" she asked cheerfully. "I'm pretty sure we are all going to go into sugar shock afterwards. The people from Thirteen don't get sweets too often."

I turned and looked at her. She was smiling as she spoke and I found that I liked the way it made her look. She was short and middle aged, slight of build with sand colored hair and kind brown eyes. She was a doctor, and even though I kind of hated doctors because of Dr. Whyte, I knew that she meant me no harm. She exuded a gentle wisdom, and she didn't seem afraid to push me sometimes when I was stuck on an issue though her tone was usually playful.

I liked her.

I hadn't liked anybody in a while.

"Did you find the right kind of tips for the icing bags?" I asked.

"Well," she began, as calm as ever, "we had to improvise a little. Your directions were very specific and we couldn't find tips that were quite narrow enough. I don't want to frighten you Peeta, but if you want to proceed with your original design you are going to have to use some large bore needles from the medical wing to finish the frosting."

I glanced at her, and she looked back with level and unwavering eyes. A few thoughts went through my mind, not the least of which was that it was some kind of a test or trick. But she looked at me with such calm confidence that somehow I knew that if it was a test it was one that I had the power to pass or fail, and that the consequence would simply be that the cake didn't get frosted the way I wanted it.

I grinned at her.

"You like to push me a little, don't you?"

She smiled good-naturedly.

"I don't know what you mean Peeta."

After thinking about it for a few more moments I finally aquiesed.

The tray of the needles was laid out and I took a moment to steady my breathing before I reached out and grasped one.

"This is the size I'll need," I said. "Three of them…and you might as well bring syringes as well…as big as you can find. It will be easier to work with them than trying use these pushed through the icing bag."

Dr. Turner's smile grew wider.

"Gentlemen, please remove Mr. Mellark's restraints and get him what he asked for," Dr. Turner commanded confidently.

If the guard felt any trepidation about removing the handcuffs, he didn't show it, though I remained flanked by three armed men. Even though this was the fourth day I'd been in the kitchen, being unrestrained in such a populated area was liberating and frightening at the same time, like I was jumping into a net that I wasn't sure was there.

"You get some color back in your cheeks when you talk about work Peeta. It is good to see."

"Well, it's just finishing touches today," I said, surveying the mostly finished cake in front of me. "What will I do with my time tomorrow?"

"We'll worry about that tomorrow."

I caught her eye and she nodded at me.

The additional needles and syringes arrived. Oddly the sight of the syringes was more disturbing to me than the needles, but once I got the frosting into them I was all right. It was much harder working with them than it would have been if I had the proper bags and tips, but it was manageable.

A peculiar thought entered my mind, and though some part of me knew it was insane to ask, that I already knew the answer, another part of me couldn't let it go. Without setting down my work I finally asked Dr. Turner.

"Am I the one getting married?" I asked.

"No Peeta. What makes you ask?"

"I'm not sure. I think I was supposed to get married. Or maybe I already am married. Is that real?" I froze my arms and looked over my shoulder.

She looked at me gently, ever calm.

"No Peeta...that is not real.

"Okay," I said blankly, not really having feelings about it one way or the other, and returned to my work.

After a while the information came back to me.

"This is Finnick's wedding, right?" I asked.

"That's right."

"I just said something about it to Haymitch. How could I have forgotten so quickly?"

"I don't know. I think that you have some glitches in your brain. Maybe it's something permanent like scar tissue or maybe it is something that will get better. We just have to give it time."

I didn't say anything just then. I was remembering the first day that I started working on the cake. They brought me the little bottles of food coloring and I quickly moved the little red bottle far out to the side. When she asked my why, I lied and told her that since Finnick lived in District Four near the water I'd be decorating with blues and greens and I wouldn't need the red. I didn't want to tell her how uncomfortable that little bottle of red liquid made me feel.

But then just a few short days later I felt fine, using objects that had been the instruments of my torture to finish decorating the cake.

* * *

"So how did it go?" Dr. Turner asked.

I shifted around in the bed and didn't make eye contact.

"That well," she sighed sitting at the foot of my bed. "You didn't have an episode so that's something anyway."

I still didn't look at her.

She was silent then, which was something that she was so good at doing, just being quiet. Silences didn't bother her in the slightest. In fact when we had first begun our sessions most of them were spent in silence. She had a great talent for it.

"I thought that I would feel closure," I finally said.

"How do you mean?"

"I don't know, maybe like I was saying goodbye or something."

"Is that really what you want?"

I looked up at her. She was looking at me, and though she was wearing her best poker face I could see some of her compassion coming through.

"I don't know if I want that."

"Do you think you need to decide now?"

"I don't know...Haymitch made it sound like there might be some kind of plan they have in the works for me. I doubt it will be separate from her."

Her body visibly stiffened and I saw a flash of anger cross her face before she froze her features. She stood and turned her back on me, taking a few steps away.

"Hmm, I see," she said, struggling to maintain her calm. There was a note of irritation in her voice, something that I'd never witnessed during our time together.

"Did he give you any indication what these plans might entail?"

"No," I said blankly.

When she turned back around her kind brown eyes had transformed and looked like they were on fire.

"Tell me something Peeta...if you hadn't been restrained during your meeting with Katniss, do you think you might have harmed her?"

I ran over the conversation in my head, focusing on the parts that had particularly angered me.

"I'm not sure. I didn't have an episode or anything so drastic. But I did feel some of that sliding and popping sensation, like I might fall into a flash without being able to control it. But I knew I had the handcuffs."

I held my hands up to show her the deep red marks I'd made while digging them into my wrists to help me maintain my control. Her forehead creased and she seemed to lean forward a bit, as if she was going to approach me, but then thought better of it and sat back. Coddling was not something either of us was particularly comfortable with.

"So without the cuffs you might have slipped?"

"It's a definite possibility...I mean I'm not seeing her as the monster with the red eyes anymore which is an improvement. But I don't trust her...I believe that she used me. I can't know what is real or not."

"I keep telling you to ask. People will tell you."

"Yeah but how do I know if they are telling the truth?"

"It is circular Peeta. You have to trust that they are telling the truth. It is a leap of faith."

"I don't think I trust anyone anymore...except maybe you."

She waved this away, frustration coloring her voice.

"I'm not always going to be there, Peeta. You have to use your best judgment."

"Which is a snarl of scar tissue in my head."

She started placing around the room. I knew then that I'd struck a nerve when I mentioned that there might be a plan for me. That _she _didn't trust their motives, whoever they were was evident.

"Can I ask you a question?"

She turned to me then.

"Yes, of course."

"Do you think Katniss and I were real at all? Or do you think she was only pretending for her survival?"

She paused for a moment before coming to my side. After a bit of consideration she took my hand.

"I think that she was a sixteen year old girl with a big ego and a family to feed when this whole thing started. I think she wanted to live...to survive. But she would have eaten those berries rather than kill you. That shows a level of self-sacrifice. People like her don't do that for people they don't care about."

"My memory of that is different. I remember her trying to trick me into eating the berries. That's not real?"

"No," she said, shaking her head and smiling kindly. " And when you walked into the force field and died...her grief was real. It was wild and inconsolable and without guile."

I didn't feel like saying it because I was aware of a great many contradictions, but I remembered her _pushing_ me into the force field.

"I don't know if she loved you the way that you loved her Peeta, but there was love there...and a strong, strong friendship."

I wanted to argue with her because there was so much competing information in my head, but some of my mental doors were rattling and I didn't want to end the day with an episode.

"I'm going to let you rest," she said.

"Was the ceremony nice?" I asked.

She smiled.

"It was lovely. Finnick and Annie looked very happy. The cake was a hit."

"Must be nice for things to be so uncomplicated."

"Love is always complicated, whether it is from within or without there is often strife. You just need to learn how to weather the storms."

She gave my hands a squeeze before leaving and I was left alone in my quiet green prison.

"I wonder if she liked the cake," I whispered, knowing I shouldn't care.

* * *

**This was a tough chapter to write (again) because it was so dark. I will try to get the next chapter out sooner without so much time in between, but honestly I needed a break. I want to thank everyone who reads my work and sets alerts. It makes me so happy to see them pop up in my email box! And a special thank you to the people who review. IT REALLY HELPS ME WRITE FASTER (not that you'd know it from this last chapter:-) Special thanks to SpiritofEowyn, Of Pearls and Paints, Sponsor Musings, ****sohypothetically and baby Cyclopes for following this story and being consistent reviewers...it means so much and honestly, sometimes I am writing this just for you, especially when it gets hard. I greatly appreciate my guest reviewers as well. Still some unhappy chapters ahead, but I have some great ideas for much happiness in chapters to come:-)**


	9. Before My War

**Before My War**

I was sitting on my bed reading a book when the door to my room sprang open. Two men entered crisply, both dressed in some kind of military fatigues. The older one had a burn covering the left side of his face, leaving him with a scar that vaguely resembled a melted candle. The injury was so severe it had taken his eye. The other man was young, perhaps only one or two years older than I was. He was holding a bundle of what looked like clothes. Neither of them looked directly at me, but seemed to be staring into the middle space in front of them.

"Peeta Mellark," the scarred man said solemnly.

I hesitated for a moment, finding it odd that he would have to ask. I had been basically a prisoner for over a month, held by people who knew very well who I was.

"Yes," I said.

"You are going to come with us son," he continued seriously and without looking in my direction. "As of noon today you have been granted citizenship in District Thirteen. All citizens of Thirteen are expected to perform public service and you have been selected for the military."

I looked from one to the other of them incredulously, trying to remember if I'd met anyone in Thirteen that had a sick enough sense of humor to pull something like this off.

The bloodied Dr. Whyte sat in her chair by my bed. She was in a foul mood as I had been ignoring her for the better part of an hour.

"Ah," she exclaimed, "finally! Something interesting! Do you think they will give you a gun? What fun!"

I didn't acknowledge her comments.

"Will I be coming with or without the handcuffs?" I asked soberly, realizing with a sinking feeling that the plan Haymitch alluded to was unfolding before my eyes.

"We were not told to bring you to training in handcuffs."

Dr. Whyte jumped up from the chair and walked over to the scarred man who was doing the talking.

"I like him," she said maniacally. "And this," she said, indicating his burns, "is _masterful_ work. Truly…I had one turn out like him once and it was positively breathtaking!"

"Has anyone consulted with Dr. Turner on this?" I asked, struggling to focus on the actual human beings in the room and not the insane hallucination.

Neither of the soldiers looked at one another but the scarred man spoke for both of them.

"We don't know anything about a Dr. Turner. You just need to come with us."

I looked from them to the mirrored wall, searching for some help. My eyes passed over Dr. Whyte several times and I forced my mind to reject her.

_Not real._

_Not real._

_Not real._

"I think that maybe you need to check with your superiors, because I have never been taken from this room without restraints."

Finally this seemed to get the attention of the scarred man. He turned his head toward me.

"Son," he said, his voice low and holding no small amount of annoyance, "I hope that this is not a preview of your ability to follow orders. Now I suggest that you get up off of that bed, put on this uniform and come with us. Immediately."

The look he gave me brooked no argument. The fact that he was armed was not lost on me either.

Dr. Whyte spun around both of them gleefully. When I finally stood up and crossed to get the bundle of clothes she leaned in close and whispered in my ear,

"You are going to make such a big bloody beautiful mess."

I turned around with the clothes and squeezed my eyes shut.

_Not real._

* * *

I was brought to an office and made to wait alone in an ancillary room that was left unlocked. My wrists ached for their handcuffs. I struggled not to think about Dr. Whyte, even to be thankful that she hadn't followed me there, as if the very thought could summon her from my subconscious.

I heard voices in the next room rise and fall in argument. The voices grew louder and I recognized one as Dr. Turner's so I stood up and walked closer to the door so that I could hear. I hoped that she would be able to stop what was happening, though in truth I didn't think she would succeed. Being out and free and allowed to do things, especially useful things, was very appealing. But even I knew that this was madness.

I pressed my ear to the door.

"… going to get the girl killed if you do this. Is that what you want? What have you been grooming her for? To die like a sacrificial lamb?"

"No one is going to hurt Ms. Everdeen," a female voice intoned. "We need to send a certain message out to the other districts and Mr. Mellark is instrumental to our cause."

"Fine," Dr. Turner exclaimed, her voice swelling with emotion. "Then put him in front of the cameras. Give him speeches. But don't put a gun in his hand. He is not ready yet for that kind of stimulation…he will kill someone. He will kill Katniss. And as much as I don't want that to happen, it is Peeta that I don't want to see get hurt."

"Dr. Turner…do you think that maybe you have gotten a little bit too attached to your patient? It is understandable after what happened with your son…"

"No, goddamnit, this has nothing to do with Cirim!" She took a moment and I imagined her composing herself. "This is about Peeta," she said in a much calmer voice, though her earnestness was still evident. "Has anyone ever really advocated for him? In this whole ridiculous mess going back to the very first Games, has anyone ever really been on his side?"

There was a long pause, during which I thought about her words. The answer to that question was of course no, but I felt a stirring in my chest to finally have someone doing just that. The silence extended, and I hoped that whoever was taking so much time thinking over what Dr. Turner said was really considering her argument.

After what seemed like an interminable amount of time I heard the scraping of a chair on the floor.

"I'm sorry Dr. Turner, but Mr. Mellark's contribution to our cause is just too important."

"Is this by Presidential decree?" I heard Dr. Turner ask with resignation in her voice.

"It is."

_Presidential decree? What were they thinking and what was going on?_

"And we are taking you off of his case. Your involvement with Mr. Mellark has become personal for you and we can't afford for him to be distracted. He needs to focus on his work."

"I see."

There was another pause.

"He is volatile. He will kill."

"He will be controlled."

"With all due respect President Coin, you are sending him into a war zone. Since when is that environment conducive to controlling anything?"

I heard footsteps coming toward the door, so I walked back to my chair, though I remained standing. The door opened and Dr. Turner emerged, the door shutting brusquely behind her. Shock crossed her face when she saw me and she froze for a moment before she lowered her head, placed her hands on her hips and started to shake her head.

"Masterful bitch," she whispered under her breath.

She walked to the chair next to mine. We both took a seat.

"I assume that you heard everything?" she asked.

"I don't know if I heard everything, but I heard a lot."

The look that she gave me was pained but sincere.

"You have to know that it is not that I don't believe that you are capable of getting better, Peeta. I just think that you need a lot more time."

"I agree."

She sighed.

"You are so lucid most of the time, not to mention wise beyond your years. This is just senseless…such a waste of your talent and humanity."

She stared at me hard for several seconds before saying under her breath,

"She wanted you to hear that conversation. It was a calculated move to plant a seed of doubt in your mind. That you will be unable to stop yourself from hurting Katniss…you do understand?"

I nodded. She searched my face.

"But you have a choice. You need to focus on who the real enemy is Peeta. Can you try to do that?"

Her words snagged in my mind in an odd way and I gave her a half smile.

"Yes."

We were quiet for a while. Finally she stood up.

"I think then that this is farewell for now. I truly hope that we will meet again."

My chest tightened as I stood to say goodbye to the only person that I trusted.

"Good luck. Try to remember our work and do your best." She turned quickly and walked away.

"Dr. Turner," I called after her. She turned back, and I saw that she had tears glistening in her eyes.

"Yes, Peeta?"

"What is your name?"

She smiled. "Marin."

I walked to her, extending my hand. She slid hers into mine.

"Marin, thank you for being the only one to ever stick up for me. I won't forget you."

"You are welcome, Peeta," she said quietly. She squeezed my hand and then turned and walked out of the room.

I returned to my chair and waited, though I didn't expect to meet the President. My purpose for being there was only so that I could know that my own doctor didn't think I could keep myself from hurting Katniss. It was cruel maneuvering but effective, as the seed of doubt became deeply rooted in my mind. Eventually I was collected by men from the army and taken directly to basic training.

* * *

I was moved out of the medical corridor into standard living quarters. My room differed from the other citizens' of Thirteen in that it was single occupancy and had a door that locked from the outside. It was another cell, albeit one that felt more normal than any other place had felt in months. I spent all of my time that I wasn't training or eating confined to my quarters.

I didn't mind though. There were no mirrored walls or monitoring equipment and restraints became a thing of the past. There were times when I felt almost normal.

_Almost._

I was still haunted by Dr. Whyte periodically and suffered from terrifying nightmares that often left me in an unresponsive stupor the following day. Apparently my commanding officer had me dragged to the yard on one of those days after I didn't show up to morning role call. He spent the better part of fifteen minutes screaming at me before finally giving up and sending me back to my quarters. I had no memory of the event but it was recounted to me by one of the other recruits.

I was sitting in my quarters playing a game of solitaire one evening when there was a knock on my door. It was odd since no one ever came to see me. It also presented a problem since the door locked from the outside and I had no way of opening it for my guest.

I walked to the door.

"Hello," I called.

The lock was released and the door swung open.

At first I wasn't sure what I was seeing. It was a young woman with honey-colored hair and large grey eyes. She had a dimple in her chin, which my memory tripped over. It took a few seconds and then suddenly I couldn't believe my eyes.

"Prim?" I asked, a smile coming to my mouth. "You got taller! Is that possible? How long has it been since I've seen you?"

Her mouth turned up into a hesitant smile.

"Hello, Peeta."

"Seriously...you look different. It's been what? Two months? How could you have grown so much?"

She shook her head and gripped the sides of her arms in her hands.

"It's been closer to three months. My mom says I had a growth spurt because of all the food we've had for the past year since..."

She stopped and looked at me with eyes that were beseeching and guilty.

All the food she's had since her sister and I won the Hunger Games.

_Her sister._

I forced my mind away from noticing all of the ways that they looked the same since the sight of Katniss usually set me on a bad path. Prim had light hair and features, while Katniss was dark brunette, but their eyes were the same color and shape. While Katniss was all angles and sinew, Prim definitely had more of her mother's look to her, delicate and birdlike…something you could break.

_This is Prim. Perfectly innocent Prim. You protect Prim at all costs._

I steadied my breathing and did a quick mental check. I didn't hear any of my doors rattling and Whyte was nowhere to be seen.

"Would you like to come in?"

"Sure," she said, smiling a little.

"Leave the door open," I said absently, though it was anything but.

She nodded and her smile crept up her face a little further.

"How have you been?" I asked.

"Okay. Busy...I'm learning how to be a healer, in addition to regular school, so it's been a lot."

"And your mom?"

"She's good...you know...worried all the time about us. But I guess that's what moms do."

I nodded at her. She looked at me quietly for a few moments before saying with a wavering voice,

"Peeta...I'm sorry about your family. I wish that...I wish a lot of things." Her eyes dropped and two tears trailed down her cheeks.

I wanted more than anything to go to her and give her a hug like I used to, but I didn't want to scare her. And I wasn't really sure if I could handle it. A part of me wondered if I was even allowed to hug Katniss's sister anymore, which was pretty absurd.

Thinking of my family lost to fire and crushing explosion featured in many of my nightmares so I decided to move on.

"How can I help you this evening Prim?"

She composed herself, pulling a handkerchief out of her pocket to wipe her eyes. She took several deep breaths before leveling a look at me. I was suddenly looking into the eyes of a much older person, someone who had seen and lost too much.

Someone who was determined not to lose anything else.

"I don't know exactly what they are doing with you Peeta but I have some idea. I'm pretty sure you are going to end up in the field with Katniss."

"What makes you think that?" I asked, not because I doubted the possibility, but because I was concerned about Prim, about how much exposure to the madness of the war she was enduring.

"I pay attention. There was talk after you were taken from the medical corridor. Of a presidential directive."

I nodded but said nothing.

"I want to show you something," she said as she reached into her pocket and pulled out something wrapped in silver. "This is important Peeta. You have to be careful with it. It means a lot to...," she fumbled, looking down at her hands, "she doesn't even know that I took it. No one even knows that I'm here."

"Okay," I said, mirroring her serious tone. It was easy to talk to her, to follow the simple cadences of her speech. It made me feel calm and sure, something that I hadn't felt since I'd been around Dr. Turner.

She started to unwrap the package. It appeared to be silver sheeting of some kind. It unfurled and two objects fell out into her palm. The first was a cylinder and the word 'spile' entered my mind unbidden and somehow I knew it was used to forage for water. I knew the water was in a place it wasn't supposed to be and that was meaningful, a memory buried, but it was hidden in a place in my mind with rattling doors so I left it alone.

The other object in Prim's hand was a large pearl. It was round, creamy and iridescent and it hummed with a different kind of memory. I reached out to take it but she closed her fist around it.

"This is precious. It is something meaningful to a time and place and two people I love." She looked at me sternly. "Please handle it with care."

I looked in her eyes and nodded.

She let the pearl slip into my hand and I was surprised at the weight of it. The coolness of its surface quickly gave way to the heat of my palm.

"Do you know what a pearl signifies?" she asked.

I shook my head, continuing to gaze down at it.

"It indicates purity and devotion on the part of the giver."

Several seconds passed and I tried to dig at the edges of a memory. I remembered the heat and sun, a sense of something ending and apprehension and sadness. But there was also peace. Acceptance. The memory was clear and serene for a change, unmarred and without defect. It had clean edges, which made me think that it had never been handled or mistreated by Whyte.

"Do you remember?" she asked, and I looked down into her eyes. There was desperation there, a pleading, and I tried very hard to rack my ravaged brain for the answer. I didn't want to disappoint her, not when she was trying so hard to help me.

I returned to studying the pearl. I finally started to hand it back to her.

"I'm sorry Prim, I don't remember anything specific, just maybe how I felt the last time I held it…"

As I placed the pearl back into the cradle of her palm I flashed suddenly on the full memory. It was friable and delicate like wet tissue paper but I held onto it.

It was like standing in the sun for the first time in my life, like it was the first time I'd ever taken a full breath or had a taste of clean cold water. I laughed, amazed that I recognized what it was so quickly.

It was love.

I had given this pearl to someone that I loved more than anyone else. I felt it grow and spread out inside of me, filling all of the ragged edges that had been left to die up until that point.

Prim smiled when she heard me laugh.

"You remember," she said, her voice soft and far away.

I looked at her to see tears streaming down her face. I reached up and smoothed the tears from her face.

"This is Katniss's pearl," I said. Her name did not catch in my throat like it normally did.

"Yes," she whispered, still holding the pearl in her open hand.

"I gave it to her during the Quarter Quell. I found it in an oyster. I gave it to her because I wanted her to have something to remember me by."

"Yes."

"Because I loved her."

She nodded.

Some of the old arguments wanted to come to the surface, that my love wasn't what was in question, but hers was, that she'd never cared. That I was nothing but a pawn to her.

But Prim seemed to sense the presence of these thoughts and her voice held great weight when she asked plainly and clearly,

"Why would Katniss keep this pearl Peeta, if not for the love she felt for you?"

I couldn't say that it was a revelation, that the house of cards came crashing down all at once, but it was the most compelling piece of evidence that I'd gotten since coming to Thirteen that most of my terrible memories of Katniss were not real.

**Please review!**


	10. Post apocalypse

**Post apocalypse**

I was lying in another hospital bed. Hospital beds were becoming quite a thing with me. It was better than the burn unit though, which had been little more than lying in stainless steel tubs filled with foam staring up at water-stained ceilings. At first I thought I was back in Whyte's dungeons being subjected to some sort of new torture. But then I'd heard Dr. Turner's familiar voice, albeit a more vehement and angry version, telling people what they were going to do for me. She brooked no arguments, and I aquiesed along with everyone else. Whether she advocated so intensely for my own good or to fulfill some need that she had to protect or nurture I didn't know. I did not particularly care.

It was just nice to have someone really on my side.

My hospital room was pale yellow with a window that actually opened to a bright blue sky. It was a pleasant place and there were days when I'd stare out into the sky for hours, getting lost in my thoughts.

She was pushing again, asking me to talk about the City Circle. Talking was hard to do because my voice had been so damaged from the fire. And talking about fire was hard for other reasons.

"I was free," I whispered. My voice sounded like two stone slabs scraping across one another.

"Free from what?"

I reflected for a moment before continuing.

"Free from the choices I had made before separating from the others…from their consequences as well. Free from her, I guess."

"How did it feel?"

"Scary," I said drawing breath, though I smiled, my burned flesh tugging painfully across my forehead. "It was scary to step away from everything. My mind was in utter chaos at that point and things were so jumbled. The tidy house of cards we built in Thirteen was blown to hell in the Capitol."

"So you felt scared…but free?"

"Yeah…it was like this painful and messy thing that had defined me for so long had finally been severed. And I think I was scared at first because of the hole that it left. But once I stopped focusing on the hole I felt free."

"So what drew you to the City Circle?"

"Max."

"Who is Max?"

"Maxon Princip the Third, actually," I smiled, remembering his face. "He was this little kid that I found wandering around looking for his sisters. At first he was crying and carrying on about them leaving him behind to go to the President's house. But when I told him I'd help him he was nothing but smiles…like the whole war hadn't gone straight to hell all around us."

I thought back to that time, which was only about a thirty-minute span between when I left Katniss and made it to the City Circle. I remembered how overwhelming it all was. I was painfully aware of the suffering of the masses of refugee Capitol citizens who surrounded me. Without the distraction of my personal drama the reality of the war that was being wrought loomed huge in my cloudless eyes.

The crush of people seemed endless, shifting and destructive in their wide-eyed, panicked search for some sign of where to go.

_Find water._

_Find food._

_Find shelter._

I could have told them but I didn't. Not that they'd listen.

And in the bloodied and broken part of my mind I reveled in their fear. They, who had sat in their plush velvet living rooms eating duck liver pate while placing bets on whether or not I lived or died. To see them running through the streets like frightened livestock on slaughter day was a thing of beauty.

But my eyes kept tripping over children…so many that they almost seemed to outnumber the adults. After a while it was only children that I saw…children who had been born in the Capitol without asking for it any more than I had asked to be born in Twelve. I was not naïve…I knew that they would have grown into the same gluttonous, oblivious adults that their parents were, inured to their culture and society.

But on that day they were innocents in a city that was burning and the terror on their faces was real.

"Peeta? Where did you go?"

I looked up into the gentle smiling face of Dr. Turner.

"How old was he?"

"Max? Five. He was wearing this black wool coat with a blue flat cap like one my dad used to have." I paused for a moment and cleared my throat. "He looked like a little adult. As soon as he had my help he knew exactly what he wanted and that was to get to the President's house and bawl out his sisters for leaving him."

I laughed a little, remembering his furious brown eyes and dimples, yapping on and on like an angry puppy. We moved within that panicking crowd, but he carried on as if it was an afternoon outing.

"We got to the City Circle just a few moments before…"

A few seconds ticked by.

"Go on."

I got angry with her, which happened frequently. The nice thing about someone really being on your side was that you were safe to disagree with them.

"I know that you want me to say it because you think it will help me to say it but it won't. I'm not like you…saying things out loud doesn't fix me. My monsters live outside of my head remember? I talk to them out loud too…"

She regarded me quietly.

"Dr. Whyte?"

I didn't say anything but continued to stare forward. Dr. Whyte still visited on occasion, though things had changed. I pushed the thought away.

"I'll tell you," I said irritably, "but don't expect any miraculous turnaround. I'm still going to have nightmares and blackouts and visitors."

"Okay," she said neutrally, shrugging her shoulders as if she didn't care, but her eyes said that she'd show me just how much better she would make me. Her resolve caused me to soften. The trouble with being mad at her was that she was one of the few people I talked to.

"We arrived in the City Circle right after the first set of explosions went off in the pen. And of course his sisters were in there, which I knew because he started screaming and crying again, pointing at the fence. There was a girl clinging to it, barely alive, a blackened bloody mess and I assumed it was one of his sisters. 'Liesel' he kept yelling and pointing.

"And it is just like you hear about…where everything happens all at once. He took off toward them. I sensed the trick and I reached out to grab him."

I paused, taking a breath.

"And I would have stopped him, the little bugger, if I hadn't caught sight of Prim at almost the same moment."

I looked at Dr. Turner.

"Of course it was no contest. I wasn't free anymore. The old drives snapped back into place and I started running for her, abandoning Max to his doom. And I knew, I just _knew_ that it would be for nothing. That I would never get there in time."

I stopped talking. My throat was raging from talking so much. Instead I indicated my burned face and body.

She nodded, taking my meaning.

Dr. Whyte, who had been sitting silently in the corner on the other side of my bed, cleared her throat. I turned my head slightly in her direction. She was no longer the blood-covered monster from my hallucinations in Thirteen. She was back to her normal self: dark, severe bun, black dress, white jacket. Everything tidy and in its place.

When she spoke it was subdued.

"And what of your freedom? Did it all come flooding back to you…your devotion to this one, capricious girl?"

I looked her full in the face.

"No."

She looked subdued, diminished.

"I'm sorry?" Dr. Turner asked.

"Nothing," I said, feeling as though I'd just shoveled another pile of dirt into the grave-like hole in my chest that I'd been working to fill.

* * *

There was a knock on my front door and I wiped my hands on my apron as I walked to see who it was.

I opened the door to find Gale. He spoke without preamble, regarding me coolly.

"I thought you'd want to know…she's been taken back to Twelve."

I took a moment to take in the changes in him as he looked completely unlike the young man I'd known in Twelve. He was outfitted in dark military dress with a tie and some badges on his jacket. He was polished from his tight haircut straight to his patent leather shoes.

"Please come in," I said mildly.

We moved into the sitting room in my living quarters. I had been relegated to a small dwelling on the grounds of the President's estate to complete my convalescence. I'd been attempting to bake for the first time since Finnick's wedding cake when he interrupted me, and as I often felt in my interactions with him, I wanted to return to what was more important to me and not deal with his angry, brooding manner.

"The trial ended an hour ago and Haymitch hurried to get her on a Hovercraft to take her back to Twelve."

I nodded, thinking that it was a wise move. I turned and walked to the window.

"Peeta..." he began. He never called me by my first name; it had always been a clipped 'Mellark' even when we were in school before Games and Katniss and the whole bloody mess. Perhaps it was just enmity between the classes since I was merchant and he was seam, but it always spoke of a deeper dislike. I'd never really cared one way or the other if he liked me.

When he didn't continue I turned toward him.

"This is a kind of punishment…a sort of banishment. I don't know if she is ever going to be able to leave there."

"Why would she want to?"

"It's a graveyard."

I nodded, not having considering that. It would hold many memories and ghosts. And after months of solitary confinement I doubted she would do well initially. But I had faith in her resilience.

"She'll have you and Haymitch to help her."

"No she won't. She'll have Haymitch, but I'm not going back."

This surprised me, and I took a step toward him.

"Why not?"

He looked incredibly guilty all of a sudden, and I realized that I'd stumbled into foreign territory for him. Guilt was not an emotion that Gale knew what to do with. So he got angry.

"Look, I have my family to take care of now. We've all survived by some miracle. We are relocating to Two…I have a job where I can provide for them."

"I think," I said pausing, "that there will be opportunities in Twelve. At least that is my understanding of Reconstruction. There will be regular shipments of food and you can supplement by hunting. There is some kind of factory being built. I'm sure someone with your military honors could get some kind of managerial position."

"Peeta…" he tried to continue but I cut him off.

"You could have my house. I understand it's still standing. Plenty of room for the family." The words came out methodically.

"Peeta."

I grew impatient.

"So you are going to leave her alone? Is that it?"

He was injured by my frankness, but my smooth-talking days were over.

"She'll be fine," he said stiffly.

"She won't. This will wound her."

"She's different now…broken."

I laughed out loud, but it held nothing but contempt.

"Who the fuck isn't? It was a war and her sister got blown up. She was half blown to hell! You are her best friend…deal with her being broken. She'll get better."

"What about you? Aren't you going back?"

And there it was. The crux of the matter. He wanted me to go back to be there for her so he wouldn't have to feel bad about not wanting to do it.

"_They_ haven't decided what they want to do with me. I'm still unstable according to several doctors, so for now I am consigned to this place," I said, my arms sweeping the room. "I guess dignitaries used to stay here so it's pretty posh. But I can't really say it's where I want to be."

"Do you want to be in Twelve?" he asked.

I could see he wasn't going to let this go.

"I don't know Gale. There really isn't much for me there anymore." I felt another shovelful of dirt fill my chest-grave.

He squinted at me.

"You are different too," he said. "Removed. Empty."

"Two Hunger Games and a civil war will do that to you," I said, chuckling darkly.

"It's more than that…don't you care for her anymore?"

I thought about what I wanted to say for a long time before I spoke, mostly because I didn't know if I wanted to share any of it with him. But in the end I figured it wouldn't hurt anything and it might just make him go away.

"I've gotten pretty good at differentiating the real memories of Katniss from the ones that were changed. I still get confused sometimes and the result is…well…it's quite unpleasant. I'm not sure if I'm entirely safe to be around her, on any level, so ethically I have issues with being her next-door neighbor."

I paused for a moment before I continued, knowing that this was the real heart of the matter.

"I don't feel for her the way that I used to…I had to let her go. I care what happens to her of course. I stopped her from killing herself after the assassination, though to be honest that was more about me than it was about her."

"How do you mean?"

I smirked.

"When I saw her going for the suicide tablets, all I could think was 'Oh no you don't. You're not leaving me here with this whole bloody legacy. You are carrying half of this shit for the rest of your life just like me.' Not one of my finer, more selfless moments, but that is the truth of it."

I stared off, trying to picture a hazy future.

"If they make me go back…just to get rid of me, so that I'm not some creepy reminder of what this country was _before_…I think she and I could be friends again. Who knows? But I wouldn't return to trying to win her heart. _My _heart just isn't in it anymore."

"But you would go back," he said, the light of hope entering his eyes.

"Gale, one thing that Katniss and I can't seem to escape…we don't get to make these kinds of decisions for ourselves. It doesn't seem to matter who is in charge."

I paused.

"Maybe exile in Twelve would afford some level of autonomy. That would be a nice change."

I turned and walked back to the window and looked out. We were both quiet for a while and just when I was starting to wonder whether he'd left without saying goodbye he said quietly,

"Are you going to get better?"

I turned to him again, and was surprised to see some level of compassion in his eyes. _He had changed._

"Day by day. Some days are normal and then I have a flashback and it's bad. The nightmares are brutal. I try not to think too much about the future. Hasn't been much of a point for the past couple of years. I guess it will take me a while to stop thinking like that."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," he said quietly.

He surprised me again with this admission.

"She will get better," I said, feeling like I had to try one last time to advocate for her, that I at least owed her that. There was a chance she could be happy with him. "If your feelings for her are still there, you two would work it out."

He nodded his head at me but didn't say anything.

And then it hit me. His feelings for her had changed as well, though I didn't think it was for the same reason as mine.

"I guess trying to save the world didn't work out so well for Katniss, even if none of it was her idea. Being the sacrificial lamb to a cause that leaves you damaged makes you pretty unpopular in the end," I said acerbically.

"You're no different!" he exclaimed.

"Because she doesn't love me, Gale," I said, lowering my voice into a growl. "I need to move on."

"That's where you're wrong, Peeta," he said, gathering himself up and turning to walk to the door. He exited and closed the door behind him without saying another word.

I was left standing there wondering with a shovel full of dirt hanging over my chest.

**Please read AND REVIEW! The remainder of this work will run parallel to my other Hunger Games piece, 'The Time It Takes' though it will go in directions and explore scenes that were not in that work. **


	11. The Spark

**The Spark**

In the end I wasn't given a choice, which made me feel oddly relieved.

As I boarded the hovercraft to return to Twelve Dr. Turner shook my hand, the corners of her lips turned down. She seemed as though she wanted to say something to me but it wouldn't come. In the end I reached out and drew her into an embrace, kissing the top of her head and whispering 'thank you' into her hair. She smelled like lavender soap.

The ride in the hovercraft was surprisingly fast and before I knew it I was walking up the steps of my house in the Victor's Village. I stood in the foyer for several minutes just listening to the quiet.

I was completely alone.

At one time in my life I would have found that realization rather disquieting, and while there were several empty holes where my brothers, father and even my mother ought to be, I was fairly content with the solitude. The hole Katniss left was enormous, though I had been trying to slowly fill it in. I thought of her just a few doors away and felt only confusion and foreboding. I figured things would get straightened out one way or the other when I saw her, so, exhausted I trudged up the stairs to my dust covered bed. I woke during the night with a terrible nightmare about being chased by wild dogs and had trouble getting back to sleep.

In the morning I set to getting the house back in order, throwing open the doors and sweeping out all the dirt and cobwebs. I surveyed the dry goods in the house and made a list of food and supplies I'd need to get in the new general store in town. I showered and dressed in clothes that I'd left when we went to the Capitol for the Quarter Quell. It was like slipping into a comfortable familiar skin.

I was walking toward the front door when Dr. Whyte startled me. She was sitting in an armchair in the corner of my living room.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked.

I closed my eyes, running through the list of things that Dr. Turner and I had come up with for dealing with Dr. Whyte.

I dug my fingernails into my palm and chose to wait her out, standing there with my eyes closed.

_Not real._

_Not real._

_Not real._

There was a knock at the door and I jumped. I scanned the suddenly empty room hurriedly as I walked to the door to open it.

An old woman stood outside my door. Her clothes were well worn and patched in several places. Her face was lined and tan and though she had a sharp look about her there was a kind light in her eyes.

"Can I help you?" I asked amicably.

She gave me a quick once over before her mouth hitched up into a crooked smirk.

"I was coming to ask you the very same question Peeta Mellark. Don't know that we've been properly introduced before. The name's Sae. Been a friend to Katniss for many years. I was coming to see if you needed any help settling in."

I remembered Katniss talking about Greasy Sae from the Hob. She'd always described her as somewhat tetchy, though she'd liked Katniss well enough. I decided that she seemed harmless, and the kindness in her eyes did not seem forced. I decided to invite her in, shaking off the alarm I had felt when I saw Dr. Whyte.

"No," I said, opening the door a bit further. "I was just about to go into town to pick up some supplies, but if you'd like a cup of tea you are welcome to come in."

She gave me a wide, gap toothed smile then.

"I'd love to share a cuppa. I actually brought you some supplies that you'll want to go through before you go into town...could be I brought whatcha need."

"That was very kind," I said.

We walked through the house into the kitchen.

"Didn't know what kind of shape you'd be in that's all. When Haymitch said you were coming I figured you might need a little help," she said looking around the room, "but it looks to me you have things well in hand."

_Yes, except for phantom doctors and hellish nightmares I have everything under control._

"I'm doing fine. It is strange being back. I need to get over to see Haymitch and...and Katniss."

Her eyes squinted a bit when I mentioned Katniss and a pained expression crossed her face.

"What is it?" I asked.

She hesitated for a time and seemed to be weighing something in her mind before she spoke.

"It's none of my business Mr. Mellark..."

"Peeta.

"Peeta...it's none of my business. But you'll want to take care...maybe even wait a little while before you visit with Katniss. She's not...she hasn't been...she's not well."

"Is she sick?" I asked.

"Heart sick...for her sweet sister. And I think a bit mad from all the happenings with the Games and the war and the Capitol. I've been trying to help her, but she barely eats...she just sits."

"Her mother is a healer. There must be something she can do for her...some medicine to help her."

Sae eyed me for a moment.

"Mrs. Everdeen didn't come back to Twelve."

That floored me and the rage that filled me was so sudden and unexpected that I felt my vision blur with it. I was silent for several seconds while I tried to figure out what to say.

"Her mother left her?" was all I managed to get out and my voice shook.

"Yes," she said sadly.

"Does Haymitch...?" I asked trailing off when she shook her head.

"That one's back in the drink when he can get it...I barely see him."

"So she's alone?"

_All the people who loved her are dead or have left her?_

"I'm afraid so...as I said I try to help her as best as I can...I bring my granddaughter to try and cheer her. But it's like she's trapped in her grief."

"If all that's true, why do you think I should wait to see her? Don't you think she could use a friend?"

"Aye, but I don't think she'd want you to see her like this. She's a mess...her body and mind are in such a state."

"Sae...I've seen Katniss be a mess before. It doesn't scare me," though as I said it a part of me wondered if maybe it should.

"No. You haven't seen her like this. You've maybe seen her be a mess and hurting but she was still herself...always fighting to survive. The light shone so brightly in her it seemed like it hurt my eyes just to look at her, and that was even before the Games."

I nodded, remembering that light, and how it had always drawn me, like a moth to a flame. My heart hurt a little at the thought of that light going out.

"So what should I do?" I asked.

"Maybe wait a little bit...do something nice from afar...like make her one of those fancy cakes or drop off some flowers. Just something to let her know that you're back and that you're here when she's ready."

I had a divided reaction to that. Part of me balked.

_Hadn't I always been waiting for Katniss to be ready? Hadn't I decided I was done with that?_

But another, larger part of me wanted to help her. We were friends, or at least we used to be, and didn't friends do that? Give one another what they needed?

I smiled at Sae.

"All right," I said, nodding. "I'll give her some time...but I want to know right away if she gets worse."

"Okay," she said, though the dread in her eyes told me that it couldn't get much worse.

"How about that tea?" I asked gently, though when I turned my back I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth. That look of dread had chilled me and I realized I would have to act sooner rather than later.

I just hoped all my demons and rattling doors would behave.

* * *

The next day I woke with a sense of purpose that I hadn't felt in many long months. I dressed and headed for the woods. Even though I had never ventured across the fence when I lived here I had often gazed outside of it, so it was easy for me to find what I was looking for.

_Drop off some flowers_.

I had brought a shovel and a wheelbarrow so I made quick work of getting the plants from the earth. The shoveling made me think back to my chest-grave, but I chose to ignore it. This was friendship. I would be her friend even if it was hard and disappointing and a little dangerous.

As I walked back to the house I tried to decide where to plant the bushes, settling on an area at the side of the house.

There had been nothing left of Prim that had been discernable from the rest of the children who had burned, nothing to bury. She had no grave to mark. But she had always said that she wanted to plant a garden along the edge of the house. I had never thought to ask her what she wanted to put in there, but then why would I? I figured I'd get a chance to see whatever she chose to do since at that point I was safe, a Victor. I hadn't yet begun to have my suspicions about what was to come, so the coming storm was nonexistent for me and I remembered reveling in it, despite my estrangement from Katniss at the time.

She came upon me while I was digging the hole for the second plant. I was shocked by the sight of her, the wild, unkempt look of her and the dead, lifelessness of her eyes. It was so disturbing that I completely forgot myself, forgot my own dismal issues with nightmares and flashes. Instead I saw the pain that she was in and I rallied the old Peeta for a few moments to try to cheer her. It was almost a relief when I saw her eyes spark bright with anger for a moment when she looked at the plants.

And then she was gone.

I brought her bread the next day and the day after that, but then I had a bit of trouble of my own. I had a series of nightmares that brought on some lost days and when I finally came to I wasn't certain of how long I'd been locked in my mind. I hadn't eaten to my knowledge, so I consumed a great deal of the supplies that Sae had brought for me.

I showered and dressed for a walk to town, though I felt sick and weak. When I walked out I found Katniss sitting on my front porch. She looked better in that she was clean and groomed, but her face was skeletal and her eyes were hollow.

"I came over the past few days and waited," she said.

"Yeah…I had some bad days."

She looked down and away as if she was ashamed.

"Going to town?" she asked finally after close to a minute, during which time I alternated between studying the changes in her face and the opposing feelings that I had when I looked at her.

"Uh huh."

I was silent then.

She fidgeted, her eyes furtive. Her hands twisted in her lap.

"Do you want to come?"

She didn't say anything but stood and walked to the stairs.

We began the walk into town, not speaking, not touching, and not looking. But that was all right. I wasn't ready anyway.

I bought some supplies for the both of us telling her not to worry about bread, that I'd keep making it for her. This brought the first hint of a smile to her face, and she looked into my eyes and nodded gratefully.

I asked her how Haymitch was and she looked at me with such an odd look.

"I don't know," was all she said though it seemed as though she had more to say.

I didn't have the energy to push it.

I brought her supplies into her house and nodded a farewell before leaving without a word. I needed to get away. It was too much being with her and I needed to slow down.

I'd stay. I'd be her friend again. But I had a haunted, hollow feeling that went straight into my bones and trying to keep up any appearance of being the man I was before was exhausting.

"It will take time," Dr. Turner had said.

"How long?"

"Months…years. Just take the medicine Dr. Aurelius prescribed and call us if you need help."

* * *

"I think you should come with me," Katniss said warily, standing almost over the top of me.

I looked up at her. I was sitting on the steps of my front porch and the late morning sun was just behind her head. All I could really see was her silhouette against the sun.

"Where?"

"How many days has it been since you've slept?" she asked.

I tried to think but my mind was in a disordered snarl.

"Umm…couple of days?"

"I think it has been closer to a week, Peeta," she said, and though I could tell that she was struggling to be gentle, irritation nipped at the heels of each word. "Is it the nightmares?"

_The nightmares, the hallucinations, the flashbacks, the general lack of cohesiveness to my days…_

"Yes."

"Have you called Dr. Aurelius or Dr. Turner? Because there is a doctor here in town and I really think you should be seen."

I thought of Dr. Whyte and for a moment my faith in Katniss faltered. We had been spending time together almost every day for over a month, slowly putting our friendship back together piece by piece, though it was far from perfect. I winced at the memory of attacking her in her kitchen.

But she had forgiven me…she wouldn't bring me to see Dr. Whyte, _would she_?

In the rational part of my mind I knew that was impossible, that Dr. Whyte existed only in my mind, but I had to fight the urge to go into my house and bar the door.

"Haymitch mentioned Doc Lou to me the other day when he was talking about his geese."

"We have a goose doctor in town?" I asked lightly.

She paused, completely missing my joke, or perhaps choosing to ignore it. She'd never had a sense of humor.

"I don't think the Doc really stands for 'doctor'...more like a healer. But maybe something could be done to help you."

I shrugged my shoulders and got to my feet without saying anything. I'd used up my extra energy on my little quip so I just walked next to her silently.

"I got some rabbits yesterday," she said absently. "I'm making a stew and I…" she stopped mid-sentence.

"You what?"

"Ugh…I invited Haymitch to dinner," she said miserably. "Damn him for being so pathetic…I just felt bad. He looks awful and I had a moment of weakness."

A smile twitched up the corner of my mouth.

"Yeah, you do tend to want to help the pathetic and needy."

"Will you come?" she asked, refusing to let it sound like a plea, though I knew if I looked in her eyes it would be there.

"Sure," I said. "Dinner with Haymitch sounds fabulous. When is it?"

"In three days…I'd hoped you'd want to come, but I wanted to give you a chance to get some rest and feel better."

I was touched by her thoughtfulness, not only for it's rarity, but also because it was clear to me that she was trying so hard. I couldn't be sure, but it almost seemed like she was trying to create some kind of a little family out of the three of us, though I doubted that she realized what she was doing.

_The Clan of the Walking Wounded._

She had been so relieved when I didn't seem to be holding any grudges against Haymitch. Or her for that matter.

_tttttttttttttt_

"What are your plans for dealing with Katniss and Haymitch when you return to Twelve?" Dr. Turner had asked.

"What do you mean? We are all neighbors, and it is probably going to be years before the population in Twelve gets back up to where is was before. Of course I'll be friends with them."

"Is it necessary to be friends with them?" she asked.

I hesitated to answer because I knew it was likely that she was trying to get me to see something important.

"I don't see why I wouldn't be friends with them," I said warily.

"Do you think that there won't be other people you can make friends with? Other men and women? You may even be able to move to a different house in Twelve so that you aren't so close to Katniss and…"

"No," I said flatly and my voice held an edge of anger.

Dr. Turner looked at me openly, waiting for me to go on.

I struggled for a while with what to say to her but the words wouldn't come and it frustrated me so much, when words had always been so easily at my fingertips.

"Peeta…it is okay to want to be with Katniss again, in whatever capacity that is. It is okay to be friends with her and Haymitch. I did not mean to insinuate that I thought you should seek out other people and leave your old life behind, unless that is what you want."

"Shouldn't I hate them?" I whispered. "If I had any self respect shouldn't I want to be away from them and find someone else?"

She shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't know what you _should _be doing…I just know what you _are_ doing."

"And what is that?" I asked, feeling defeated.

"Forgiving them," she said.

_tttttttttttttt_

We arrived at Doc Lou's, a two-story house at the end of a short line of buildings that was the beginning of the new town center.

The entrance to the clinic was at the side of the house so we walked to the door. We stood side-by-side after Katniss knocked, waiting.

"Hello?" a raspy, irritable voice called from over our heads. Our heads came up, startled.

For a moment, I felt her hand encircle my wrist, and then vanish, though whether it was for my comfort or her own I couldn't say. In any event she seemed to remember herself quickly. We both normally went out of our way not to touch one another.

"We are here to see Doc Lou," Katniss called.

"What's your business?" the voice croaked, followed by a hacking sound and some colorful expletives. I took the reins.

"I can't sleep."

"What?" he bellowed.

"I can't sleep," I yelled.

"Well neither can I with the two of you carrying on down there! I'll be down in a minute after I'm dressed. Woke me from a sound sleep…the nerve…"

Katniss and I looked at one another and a smile crept onto my face. We could both still hear Doc Lou through the upstairs window, swearing and barking in a gruff voice and slamming things around.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"It's got to be almost noon," Katniss said, a smile forming on her lips.

"Doesn't he know this is District Twelve and everyone is up at dawn?" I asked in a faintly mocking tone. "I guess this town really is going to hell. Can't even have a doctor who is up at a reasonable hour. No wonder he and Haymitch got along so well…they were probably out drinking together last night."

"I'm pretty sure Doc Lou is a woman," she said innocently, looking up at the window.

I started laughing so hard that I had to bend forward.

When I could finally speak I stood tall and looked at Katniss, whose face held only minor amusement.

"That is a woman?" I asked incredulously, and started to laugh again.

Katniss smiled and then tried to stifle a laugh by putting one hand over her nose and mouth, looking at me with wide eyes. It finally came out as a snort and at that she lost all of her composure and laughed out loud. It didn't feel foreign to me at all when she gripped my arm for support as she bent forward to send her laughter toward the ground.

When we finally got ourselves together we looked at one another.

The laughter made her grey eyes shine and brought color to her cheeks in a way that I hadn't seen in just about forever, and certainly not since before the Games. Maybe I had never seen her like that before. She had often looked beautiful and radiant to me during the course of our Games and in between, but it had always been for the sake of someone or something else. It was as though her own light didn't touch her.

But that was the case no longer, and when she shook her head at me in a chiding way, and flashed me with a smile and a conspiratorial sidelong look I saw _it_.

Even in my exhaustion and general state of illness and unease I could see it like a bright beacon.

The spark that I'd loved in her.

**AN: I refer to characters and events in this chapter that occur in _The Time It Takes_, so if you are interested please take a peek. While there are a few twists and turns still to be had I'm ready for some happy times! Please read and review...that helps me with the happy:-) **

**I have a question for anyone who has read this piece _in its entirety_ so far - Given that the subject matter of the majority of this work has dealt with torture and war and how it may have affected Peeta does it seem out of character for him to be disillusioned and reluctant to rush back to Katniss and perhaps be a little sullen and distant? Victims of post traumatic stress disorder often display changes in character that are either eventually overturned or sometimes remain permanent. Don't worry - I don't like the idea of a permanently damaged Peeta. I would be very happy if some of you could respond to this. Thank you! **


	12. Dinner Party

**Dinner Party**

**AN: This scene happens between Chapter One and Two of _The Time It Takes_**

* * *

"Have you got his head?" Katniss hissed between her clenched teeth, her face contorted with the effort of carrying Haymitch's feet. I was supporting most of the weight of his upper body, but his head lolled back and forth across his chest. The sickening sweet smell of vomit and liquor seemed to be pouring out of his pores and I wanted nothing more than to leave him in a heap on his couch. But my better angels prevailed and I squared my feet beneath me as I started to back up the stairs.

"I've got him as good as I'm gonna have him Katniss…let's just get him up the stairs."

"This…is…just…typical," she snarled and her eyes flashed dangerously on Haymitch's face.

I chose to say nothing and focused on getting him up the stairs. When we reached the landing I made to start toward the bathroom, while Katniss moved toward his bedroom.

"We can't put him in his bed like this," I said calmly. "Just help me get him into the tub. I'll take it from there."

"Just like old times," she sighed.

"What?"

"We've done this before…on the train to the first Games. Don't you remember?"

We rounded the corner into Haymitch's bathroom, which was fortunately large enough for the three of us. Katniss and I lowered him into the tub.

"I vaguely remember giving him a shower," I said uncertainly. "I thought that was during the Victory Tour…or was it the Quell?" I moved to the mirror and looked at my shirt. It had remained mostly free of vomit, so I unbuttoned the top three buttons before pulling it off over my head.

I walked back over to the tub and started pulling off Haymitch's shoes.

"I think I may have given Haymitch a few baths over the past couple of years. Seriously though, you don't have to stay," I said, smiling a bit and turning toward her.

Her face had gone white and she stared at me in horror, her right hand covering her mouth.

"Katniss, what's the matter?" I asked, suddenly very alarmed.

"I'm sorry," she said distantly, "I'm so sorry…I know we try not to look…try not to see the scars…" Her voice trailed off and she leaned into the wall behind her, though her eyes never left my chest.

I looked down.

There were burn scars, though I doubted that was what had her so unhinged, since she had just as many as I did. No doubt it was the scarring left by Dr. Whyte. She had made it her mission to find ways to get the venom into my body in greater quantities and at faster speeds. The insides of my arms bore multiple purplish track-like scars where she had inserted ports for me to be injected with venom. At one point she had placed a port just to the left of my breastbone and between my ribs so that she could inject nearly directly into my heart. The resulting scar was massive as her surgical technique had been experimental and her suturing left a great deal to be desired.

I froze, not knowing what to do. I wanted to cross the room to put my shirt back on, but I was afraid to give her a view of my back, since it bore similar evidence of Whyte's brutality.

"Katniss, look at me," I said quietly.

"I am," she whispered.

"No…look at my face."

She blinked her eyes several times as though she was trying to tear her eyes away before she finally forced her eyes to meet mine.

"This is the past. It can't hurt us anymore," I said, though a number of my mental doors started to rattle. I couldn't be certain, but I thought I detected the sound of footsteps on the stairs and somehow I knew they belonged to Dr. Whyte.

"I knew that you'd been tortured, but they said you were in good shape. I thought it was just venom. Not that venom is _just anything_…but I didn't know." She reached out a hand and took a step toward me.

"Don't," I said, struggling to keep my voice calm. My heart rate was starting to pick up and I could taste something bitter at the back of my throat. The lights in the room suddenly seemed over-bright and there were footsteps in the hall. "Can you wait downstairs for me? This will only take about ten minutes or so and then I'll come down."

"Are you sure?" Her brows were furrowed.

I looked quickly at the door and saw a shadow fall on the floor and extend into the bathroom.

"I'm sure," I whispered, forcing a smile onto my lips.

She left the room just as Dr. Whyte entered.

She started in on me right away, saying the most hateful things, but I tried not to hear the words. I focused on pulling Haymitch out of his soiled clothing and washing the mess down the drain. When I was finished I draped him in towels before hauling him up onto his feet. He regained consciousness for a moment.

"Are we swimming?" he slurred, before his head dropped and I had to catch him over my shoulder.

"This is what your life is going to be now, Peeta. Nothing but hopelessly broken things to try to mend. You'll be bathing this drunk for the rest of his miserable life until he sees fit to actually choke on his vomit and die. And that girl…"

"Don't say it," I seethed through my teeth, as I half dragged Haymitch down the hall and dropped him onto his bed. She followed me into the room.

"Did you see how she looked at you? Like you are a monster…like you are a freak."

I threw a blanket over Haymitch before storming out of the room.

"You are not real," I spit acerbically over my shoulder.

"I find it amusing that your brain finds me real enough to actually make me walk up the stairs and follow you up and down the hall to have me enter a room. I am very well embedded, wouldn't you say?"

"Shut up!" I yelled.

"Peeta, are you okay?" Katniss called from the bottom of the stairs.

I pulled my shirt back over my head before I answered. It was instantly soaked with sweat and I felt a moment of despair at the futility of my situation, that Whyte could be set loose all because I wanted to keep my shirt clean.

"I'm fine," I called down to her, keeping my voice even. "I'll be down in a minute."

"Who are you talking to?"

"Haymitch woke up for a second."

I looked at my face in the mirror for a moment before wiping it with a towel. My burn scars were blazing red from my exertion and my eyes looked wild. Suddenly something that Dr. Whyte said stuck in my head and I had an idea.

I turned and took several steps toward Dr. Whyte before hissing in her face,

"Yes, you are well embedded in my perception of reality. So you are bound by some rules. Try getting out of a room with a closed door."

She looked moderately shocked as I quickly spun on my heels and walked out of the bathroom, slamming the door closed behind me. It was like I was closing one of my mental doors on a monster with no real hands to turn the knob. I knew it wouldn't keep her at bay forever, but it was a little short-term trick that I had up my sleeve, and I couldn't help but feel a small measure of triumph. The more weapons I had in my arsenal against that particular monster the better.

When I reached the bottom of the stairs Katniss was waiting.

She handed me a glass of water, which I gladly took from her, drinking it in three large gulps. I placed the glass on one of tables in the foyer.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, looking at me from the corner of her eye. "I didn't mean to get all upset. I just didn't realize how much you'd been hurt. You know…physically."

I nodded at her, not really sure what to say. I didn't really feel like trying to make her feel better when I was the one who had been tortured.

"Do you want to get out of here?" she asked.

"Yes."

We walked out the door into a night brightly lit by the moon. Haymitch's house was the largest on the street, a full three stories, with an expansive lawn. Due to lack of maintenance it had turned into a field filled with scrubby bushes and wildflowers. It was pretty in an odd way, especially in the moonlight, and I ran my hand along the top of the grass as we moved down the walkway to the street.

Katniss walked close to my left, our arms brushing against one another. Her closeness was one of Doc Lou's strategies for my flashes so that I wouldn't view Katniss as a threat. We were supposed to touch in friendly, non-threatening ways. Doc Lou had explained in her typically gruff and snappy tone,

"You know…touch each other like you used to…before all the war and torture shit happened."

Katniss and I had looked at one another nervously for a moment before I lowered my eyes. She and I both knew that our former easy familiarity was a thing of the past, but we did our best. I appreciated the effort she was making to try to put me at ease as we walked, but all that I wanted was to get back to my house and have a heavy dose of the sleep syrup Doc Lou had prescribed for my nightmares.

"I knew I shouldn't have invited Haymitch," she said sullenly.

"Well, technically it was his house so we were the invitees," I sighed.

"And what's the deal with him going on about sacrificing one of the geese?" she asked, irritability. "I swear, if he does anything like that with one of them I'm taking them. That's good meat and I don't like burnt offerings unless I can eat them."

I started laughing quietly.

"Ah, yes…Haymitch's drunken absurdities. They could make a television show out of it."

She smiled a little at that, but then became serious again.

"He is just so broken. He's never going to be fixed."

I shook my head and looked up at the moon.

"You don't know that," I sighed, letting out a long breath. "We're getting better despite everything we went through. And _fixed_? That's kind of asking a lot of anybody. He's been dealing with having the blood of dead kids on his hands for a quarter of a century…it's going to take some time."

She was silent for a while and started kicking a stone out ahead of her as we walked.

"That first set of tributes after he won the second Quarter Quell…do you remember the girl's name?"

"Scarlen Bishop," I said without missing a beat. My serious studying for our Quarter Quell had only been with regard to surviving Victors. Before that I tried to block out as much about the Games as I could. But since coming home I'd started collecting the histories of the Games, mostly as a way to preserve the memories of the people who had lost their lives, but also as a reminder to myself that everything that we'd done and lost to put the Games to an end was worth it.

"That's what I thought!" she exclaimed. "Scar…he says that sometimes when he's really been drinking. I thought he was just referring to a scar or something…but tonight he kept referring to it as a 'she.'"

I thought back to the 51st Hunger Games. Scarlen Bishop and Krispin Delevor were the District Twelve tributes that year. Scarlen was seventeen years old and Krispin was twelve. Her strategy during the Games caused a great deal of controversy in the Capitol and though her death came late in the Games, it had been at the hands of the Gamemakers, not another Tribute.

"Do you think there was something between them?" I asked.

"I don't know. Haymitch told us that the Capitol killed his girlfriend within a few weeks of his winning the Quell. Maybe he started something with Scarlen…and then she was reaped."

"The fucking Capitol," I said under my breath.

"The fucking Capitol," she echoed.

We let the subject drop and were quiet until we reached her house.

"You baking tomorrow?" she asked.

"I think so," I said, wagering on the sleep syrup working for me so that I would not have nightmares that left me in some kind of a stupor. It wasn't a perfect system but it was starting to work. "Tomorrow a hunting day?"

She looked up at the sky.

"I think it's going to rain," she said softly, her eyes a million miles away.

I looked up at the sky, noting that it was mostly cloudless, but I took her at her word. She spent more time out in the natural world than I ever did and I trusted her intuition. Her hair picked up in the breeze and I really looked at her for the first time that evening.

"Your hair isn't braided," I said.

She placed her hand on the back of her head like she had forgotten something.

"You are noticing this now?" she asked, pretending to be hurt.

"It looks nice," I said lamely. "Pretty," I amended.

"Thanks." She looked down but the corner of her mouth turned up in a smile. "So if it rains you can come over tomorrow morning. I still have some venison."

"Sure," I said, my eyes returning to the cloudless sky. "Sounds nice."

I left her at her doorstep and headed home, looking forward to my bed and hopefully dreamless sleep.

I woke up the next morning to a bright sunrise. The sky had remained clear and it looked like it was going to be a nice day after all. I showered and dressed before descending the stairs into the kitchen.

Two hours later there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," I called, not wanting to put down the dough I was getting ready to roll out.

The door opened and Katniss entered.

"Hey, I thought you'd be hunting. It's a beautiful day."

When she got into the kitchen I could see that her face was cloudy.

"What's wrong?"

"Nightmares."

I set down the dough and wiped my hands in on my apron. I took her by the arm and led her to the table. We sat in silence for close to a minute. She was looking down at her hands and I was watching her face. Finally she looked at me, a line between her brows.

"Who did that to you?" she asked.

"Did what?"

"This," she said, and she placed her hand on my chest near the scar where the port had been. I fought the urge to flinch away.

It was my turn to be silent for a while. I had never discussed Dr. Whyte with anyone other than Dr. Turner. It was almost like speaking her name gave her more power, but I knew that was absurd.

"It was a woman…a doctor. Her name was Dr. Whyte."

Katniss's jaw worked and I could see angry tears form in her eyes.

"What was she doing?" she asked through gritted teeth, but then her eyes went wide. "I'm sorry…you don't have to answer that."

"It's okay," I said, taking her hand and rubbing circles on her palm with my thumb. "I don't mind telling you right now…but I just don't want to have to talk about it again if that's okay."

She looked me in the eyes and nodded.

"You know why they used the venom on me…to alter my memories, right?"

She nodded.

"It was her job to find ways to get the venom into me," I said, indicating my chest with my other hand. "She also wanted to find out what memories would be the most useful to turn."

"So she asked you about me…about us."

"Yes…I mean from what I remember she asked a lot of questions. My memory of that time is pretty hazy. But I think that she must have had information from the Games. She used those the most."

"To make you think that I tried to hurt you," she said, her voice breaking on the word 'hurt.'

I squeezed her hand a little.

"But I know now that none of it is true," I said softly. "Katniss…we have to keep moving forward. Please…I know this is scary stuff. It still messes with me sometimes. But we are getting better. Forward is our only option."

A tear escaped her eye but she swiped it with her hand.

"Okay," she said, heaving a sigh and forcing a slight smile. "Forward."

Her eyes suddenly grew hard and bright. "But I would kill that bitch if I could."

Odd emotions flooded me. She looked like a lioness when she said it, so fierce and dangerous, that I had little doubt that if Dr. Whyte was in the room Katniss would make quick work of her demise. It made me feel protected which was something that I hadn't really felt before, or at least not in a long time.

But the thought of Katniss being in the same space as Dr. Whyte also filled me with a kind of dread. It made me feel their polarities…my greatest love in close proximity with my greatest hate. It was like two planets on a collision course. I forced my mind away from the idea of it.

I gave her hand another squeeze. I didn't know what to say so I just nodded my head. I let go of her hand and stood up, returning to my workspace.

"I have to finish getting this bread ready for the oven. Are you going to go hunting?"

"No…not today," she said, looking out the window and seeming lost in her thoughts.

"Well do you want me to teach you how to make something?" I indicated the dough with my hands.

She looked at me, her eyes softening a little.

"That sounds kind of fun actually," she said lightly, sounding a bit surprised.

"Well I doubt it will be as fun for you as traipsing through the woods all day, but I like it."

"I don't traipse Peeta," she said with mock condescension, "it scares the game."

"Well you'll have to show me sometime."

She looked at me then with a real smile on her lips.

"I will."

**Please review!**


	13. When I Knew

**When I Knew**

**This chapter happens between Chapters 6 & 7 in The Time It Takes.**

* * *

"Why do you think they sent me here? Why didn't they just kill me?" she asked softly.

We were lying on our backs next to the lake. We'd just fled like fugitives from my house, and though there was no reason involved in making the decision to come out here, there was something about being someplace new and different that helped me to snap out of my shock.

_Johanna dead due to torture. I would probably be okay. _

_Probably._

The trees seemed to form a crown of cover over the top of us and it was as if we were alone in the world everything was so quiet.

We were soaking wet, dressed only in our underclothes, and it somehow made me feel like I was a part of the earth beneath me. The dirt slowly turned to mud from the water that dripped off of my body, and it was as if I could sink in and disappear from existence forever. It was a tranquil, comforting feeling.

"Peeta?" she murmured, calling me back to life.

"I think it was your mother that made the most difference at the trial," I answered quietly.

"My mother?" she said, low and flat. "I didn't expect that…I thought it was you. Or even Gale," she added guiltily.

"I was there. Every day. But I was barred from testifying…deemed mentally unfit. Gale definitely stepped up. He was very specific and damning in his testimony against all of the people who orchestrated your rise and fall. Beetee was there and Plutarch. Even Haymitch. But it was definitely your mom who made the biggest impression."

"How?"

"You know how important the media is Katniss. And your mom used them to her advantage. She contacted the parents of other Tributes, those that lived and died. There were over three hundred parents who really lent their support. Didn't matter what District. She cried for justice for all of the parents who had lost their children to the Capitol and the Games and they came in droves.

"Plutarch helped her get the word out. He may be a duplicitous bastard but he is damn useful. He had parents on television around the clock. When your mother took the stand there were a couple thousand people outside of the courthouse. Mothers, fathers, siblings, friends, boyfriends, and girlfriends…you name it.

"And then suddenly Dr. Aurelius was called to the stand and you were found unfit to stand trial and that was it."

She was silent for several minutes during which I quietly sunk into the mud.

"I didn't think she had that in her…I mean she's always been so fragile."

"What makes you say that?"

She sniffled and I knew she was crying. I moved my muddy arm over to touch hers.

"After my dad was killed. She went into this kind of stupor. We almost starved. I know that she was suffering…but I expected her to pull herself together for Prim and me. I hated her so much for that. I never saw her as someone capable of fighting for anything."

"Where did you think you got your fight from?" I asked.

"I guess I thought it was my father," she said quietly, "but actually now that I think about it, when he was alive she was definitely the more hotheaded of the two. She got far angrier about things than my father. Maybe Prim was more like my dad…I always saw her as more fragile, like my mom. Maybe my mother only got unstable after my dad died…but just for a while. Can that happen?" she asked.

"Don't know…losing the person you love changes the game. Your mind stops functioning normally. Maybe when your dad died she got so angry that it scared her so she shut down. I don't know."

She sat up, mud and bits of leaves clinging to her back and hair. I fought the urge to start picking them off.

"I don't understand it," she said and her voice was thin and watery with tears.

"You don't understand what?"

She looked down at me over her shoulder for a moment, her grey eyes looking at me for several seconds as if she was taking some measure of me. She looked away and sighed.

"Love."

"Oh," I said quietly.

"I loved Prim. I would have died for her. My mother and father…I suppose that was love too. It was different...it didn't come as easy. But that's…that was it for me."

I sat up, leaving behind the safety of the muddy earth. We sat with our shoulders touching, our feet just a couple of yards from the water's edge.

I didn't really want to talk about this. Her words cut but I tried to take them as her friend, as I knew that she was taking a risk by telling me. The admission was more than I thought she was capable of since Katniss's emotional life struck me as being very basic, that somewhere along the line she made a decision to keep things very simple for the sake of survival.

I stood up and made my way back into the water.

"Come in swimming with me," I said quietly.

She eyed me for a moment, and it seemed like she was trying to weigh the wisdom of it. I swam away from her, moving out far from the shore. The water was cold but it felt good. It soothed the hurt I felt in my chest.

My thoughts returned to Johanna and I stayed in that unhappy place for a while, wondering how her last days were, and hoping that someone who cared for her had been there, though a part of me knew that wouldn't have been the case.

Before I knew what was happening Katniss was behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

I turned to her. We tread water together.

She closed the distance between us and drew me into an embrace. It was hard trying to stay above water holding onto one another.  
"I'm sorry," she whispered into my ear.

I gripped her more tightly and suddenly I felt like I was fighting tears.

At first I didn't understand. This was the past. Of course her admission and apology would be significant, painful even.

But I felt freshly wounded.

Treading water was even harder this way and our heads went under several times. I wasn't the strongest swimmer since I'd only really learned a few things during the Quell, and my artificial leg made it harder. All at once I just stopped swimming and for some reason she did too. We began to sink.

We loosened our grip on one another but she still held onto my forearms. We were letting out our breath, and we sank further and further under the water. Suddenly my feet touched the bottom. I looked up. The surface wasn't far above, maybe only about three or four feet. The bottom was slick with vegetation, and our feet stirred it up, sending green debris into the water.

We looked at one another for a few seconds. It was strange. She was framed in darkness; her hair and small clothes floating loosely around her, making her unearthly, like I imagined an angel might look. She seemed small and alien there, even though she was the largest presence in my life with a force like gravity.

The truth hit me like a detonation in my chest.

I still loved her. I would never stop loving her. It was possible that I never had, but that I had built up walls to keep out the anger and hurt, just like her mother had when her father died.

As we ascended to the surface a thousand moments from the past few months went through my mind, and I suddenly realized that my motives had all been grounded in love, from planting the primrose bushes, to making her bread, to painting pictures for her book. I broke the surface and inhaled deeply. Air tore into my chest and it hurt, but not just from the breath after the lack of oxygen. It hurt that I still loved her and she had just told me that she'd never felt the same.

I swam to the edge of the lake, leaving her behind me. I got out and stood with my back to her, letting the water run off of me in rivulets. I stared into the trees, wondering if I could make it back on my own. She was suddenly beside me and she placed her hand on my arm.

"Are you angry?"

"Yes," I said without skipping a beat. "But it is neither here nor there now. Forward is the only way for me."

"Us," she said, and her voice shook.

I finally looked down at her. She had lost the ethereal beauty she had under the water. At that moment all she looked like was a wet, sad girl.

"What is it that you want from me Katniss?"

She shook her head.

"Time."

"You've had a lot of time."

She looked up at me and for an instant anger flashed in her eyes.

_Forever protecting, defending, fortifying. _

I gave her an angry look right back.

"I want to go," I said hollowly.

She nodded and we set about finding our clothes and dressing in silence.

We exchanged no words on the walk back. At the edge of the forest she stopped.

"I'm going back," she said quietly. "I don't want to go back to my house. I need a break."

"Okay," I said neutrally. "I'll see you when you get back."

I walked home without looking back.

The next few days were painful. I thought about nothing but Johanna and Katniss. I started a new mural in my living room, an ugly, bloody thing with nightmarish images of gurneys and mutts.

Whyte was with me a lot, but she was oddly silent. She just looked at me from the dark corners of my rooms with a sharp, triumphant smile. At times her teeth lengthened and her fingers formed into claws. I took to locking myself in my room, but she scraped those fingernails on my door all night long.

On about the fourth or fifth day Haymitch made an unexpected visit.

"Was wondering where you kids ran off to. Katniss here?"

"No," I answered, my voice infused with ice.

"I see. She's not at her house either. Any idea when she'll be back?"

"No."

"Very monosyllabic, Peeta. How are you doing with the news about Johanna?"

"Coping."

He eyed me then, and it felt like his gaze penetrated to the back of my head.

"Do you have anything to eat? I'm starving."

This threw me off guard. My relationship with Haymitch had been improving over the past several months, but he didn't often drop in for a social visit.

"Uh…I think that I might have something. Bread's kind of stale. I haven't been baking."

"Why not?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Haven't felt like it." I was half way down the hall before I realized that he wasn't behind me. I backtracked and found him standing in my living room staring at my murals.

"Soooo," he began, "interesting work here. I can't say I care for it, but it has a lot of passion. It's visceral. In fact I think that might actually be some viscera right there," he finished, pointing at a particularly gruesome scene in the corner.

I was silent.

"How're things with Katniss?"

"Fine."

"Seen her in a few days?"

"No."

"Really, Peeta…the single syllable words don't suit you. You've never really been a man of few words. What's going on?"

"It's none of your business, Haymitch."

"Bullshit," he said as if he savored the word. "I'm still your mentor so it concerns me. What happened with you and Katniss?"

"Nothing," I said stonily, before breaking down and adding acerbically, "if you leave out the fact of her telling me that she never loved me."

"Well that's bullshit," he said without skipping a beat, again rolling the word 'bullshit' around in his mouth like it was a fine wine.

"She was pretty clear about it, Haymitch."

"That girl is no more clear about how she feels about you than she is about what to do with a curling iron. What brought this up?"

Reluctantly I recounted our conversation by the lake to Haymitch. To his credit he listened in absolute silence. He also seemed oddly sober.

"So let me get this straight. We had this party for her dead sister Prim that was lovely, even by our pitiful standards, at the end of which Gale shows up with abysmal news about Johanna that may or may not foretell a threat to your health and wellbeing, and on the heels of that you have a conversation with Katniss about her mother, possibly exposing some of the deeper aspects of her mother's character including the darker side of love when it's taken away." He paused looking at me with wide eyes. "I'm surprised she didn't drown herself in the lake."

I stood there mutely. I was running through his words and I realized that I was actually having a hard time processing all of it.

"Katniss can't handle this stuff Peeta. She's all about protecting herself. I don't even know if she's aware of it. Listen…I'm not making any guarantees that the two of you are going to live happily ever after. I don't even know if that would be for the best, but that probably is none of my business. I just don't think you should have yourself so worked up over what she said."

"Are you saying she didn't mean it?"

"What I am saying is that for Katniss loving Prim was easy. She was a darling little girl to protect. You are an entirely different animal with a lot more complications. It is more likely that Katniss doesn't know what she feels. I mean…she was going to sacrifice herself to save you in the Quell! She went mad when you were captured by the Capitol! These are not the actions of a person who feels no love."

"So you think I should just forgive her."

"I think you should just keep moving on…see if she catches up."

"And if she doesn't?"

He shrugged his shoulders and rolled his eyes.

"I don't know…get yourself a dog or something."

It took me two more days before I packed up some supplies and headed out to the lake. Before I left I painted over the mural in my living room. Whyte looked angry when I closed the door, but she stayed.

The walk back was treacherous for me and I got turned around several times. But I'd always find a marker of some kind, a notch in a tree or a partially pulled up bush to help get me back on track. No one else was out in the woods in those days. It had to be Katniss purposefully leaving the markers as she normally moved within the woods without leaving a trace. I chided myself for wishful thinking. But when I broke into the clearing near the lake and she looked at me I could see the relief in her eyes and it told me that she'd left the path for me.

She stood up from the stump she was sitting on. She had a small cooking fire at her feet.

Her eyes were wary as she approached me, as though she was ready to either attack or retreat if necessary.

_Always on guard. _

"I heard you coming when you were about a mile away," she said, the corner of her mouth turned up, but her eyes were still cautious.

"Yeah…if you hadn't left some markers out there I'd still be wandering around in circles."

"I'd have come to find you," she said lightly.

I nodded and let a small smile form on my mouth.

"Well," I said quietly, "it's been a week. I was getting worried."

"Yeah, I've set up camp out here. I'm thinking of staying for the summer."

I nodded.

"It is pretty nice out here."

She was silent for several beats.

"You could…" she stopped and sighed, biting her lip and looking off to the side. "You could stay too if you wanted. There's more than enough room in the cottage. And I have plenty of food. I don't know what you'll do about baking. But maybe…" she trailed off, her eyes staring at the ground at my feet.

I knew how hard it was for her to ask this of me. I looked around at the lake and the broken down cottage.

"I think it would be nice to stay out here for the summer," I said quietly. "I'll probably still go home sometimes to bake. I actually did some baking this morning. I could go back and get it."

"No," she said quickly. "I mean…you just got here. Come sit with me."

She led me to the fire, having me sit on the stump. She sat on the ground next to my side. Quiet draped over us like a cloak.

"Peeta," she said softly, looking down and fidgeting with the edge of one of her pant legs.

"Uh huh."

"Let's not do that again…okay?"

"You mean fight?"

"No," she said, flashing a half smile up at me. "I don't think I'm capable of not fighting."

"That's probably true," I said sighing, but I winked at her good-naturedly.

She smiled a full smile then before her eyes grew oddly soft. That look was relatively new. I'd seen it once or twice when we were having the party for Prim.

"I don't want us to leave each other again," she said. "Since the beginning, since the first damn Hunger Games…whenever we split up…bad stuff happens. Things are only okay when we are together."

I was silent for a few moments before answering, staring into her eyes. The admission I was about to make might cost me a lot. Everything. But she had to know what this meant to me.

"You know why I will stay," I said unflinchingly.

She nodded, looking down at her hands. She threaded her fingers together, squeezing the knuckles until they turned white. She took a deep breath and suddenly she looked back up at me.

"I'm still not going anywhere. I hope that is enough…that it is okay with you."

She gave me that new soft look again and she took my hand and I had a moment of hope. If she was capable of change, even slow change, maybe…

But I closed the door on that thought, gently, reverently. It wasn't time yet.

A few moments passed.

"Come with me into the cottage. I cleaned it out and it's nice. I even made some space for you," she said as she used my hand to help her stand.

"You were so sure I'd come back," I chided gently.

"I hoped so," she said softly.

We entered the cottage. It was swept clean and bore evidence her presence, some clothes and linens, hunting equipment and cooking utensils. There were two sets of plates and cups. She brought me over to two beds that were made on the floor, set side by side beneath a broken window.

"It's nice in here at night. You can sometimes see the stars."

She sat on what I presumed was her bed. I took the other one, lying back on the coverlet.

"Are you comfortable?" she asked lightly.

"Yes."

"Are you telling me the truth?"

"Yes!" I laughed, thinking back to the cot that I slept on in Whyte's dungeon. Compared to that it was heaven. I didn't share that with her because I didn't want to spoil the moment.

"Good," she said, lying down on her bed and turning onto her side to face me. "Is this too close?" A few feet separated us.

"You aren't the monster in my nightmares anymore. I think you'll be safe."

She nodded and looked honestly relieved.

I tipped my head up and looked at the ceiling, thinking that it would be fun to paint the broken, crumbling walls. I could probably do something completely different than anything I had before.

"Katniss," I began, turning toward her. But she was asleep. I was surprised, as I didn't know her to be someone who slept during the day, but looking at her face I noticed for the first time the dark circles beneath her eyes. She was exhausted.

I lay next to her for a while, watching her breathe, before dropping into deep dreamless sleep.

**A/N:**

**Please, please review! It makes me happy, and when I'm happy I write faster! **


	14. Two Years

**Two Years**

**Author's Note: IMPORTANT TO READ BEFORE READING THIS CHAPTER**  
I will go into further explanation about this at the end, because I do not want to clutter the beginning but there are two things to know:  
1. Part One of this chapter takes place between chapters 9 & 10 during The Time It Takes  
2. Part Two takes place two years after Part One.

* * *

_Part One_  
I was lying on my back in Doc Lou's house staring at the ceiling.  
I'd been watching her come and go from the room for most of the day, running one test after another, becoming more and more agitated. She had finally taken a seat by my bedside in a high-backed wooden chair.  
She was old, perhaps the oldest person I'd ever met, as most people from District Twelve tended to succumb in their sixties and seventies due to the malnutrition they'd been forced to endure throughout their lives. Doc Lou was probably approaching her late eighties. She kept her hair cropped short and dressed in coveralls, with a dark red handkerchief tied around her neck. Her face was as weathered as her voice, rough as a rasp, but her eyes were a bright and intelligent green. She was surprisingly gentle as she explained to me about the damage that had been done to my body by Whyte, though as usual she peppered her speech with expletives.  
"I don't want you to get yourself all worried over this Peeta," she'd said. "I'm not saying it's not something we need to keep an eye on. Your body definitely isn't functioning at a normal level for someone your age. It is no wonder with all of the shit they were pumping into your body. And what that butcher did to your heart..." She blew out a breath and shrugged her shoulders. "I just don't know. You just need to keep on top of how you're feeling. If you get dizzy or feel weak, you send that girl of yours to get me."  
I nodded. Doc Lou stood and stared at me for a moment, her eyes regretful, before turning on her heel and exiting without another word, leaving me to ruminate on our conversation.  
Whyte stood in the corner and when I glanced in her direction she shrugged her shoulders at me. "Whoops," she said carelessly, a triumphant smile curled on her lips.  
"Fuck you," I growled. Normally I wouldn't deign to talk to her, but I was furious and in shock.  
"Fuck who?" Katniss asked, standing in the doorway and surveying the room.  
"Nobody," I said defiantly, drilling my eyes into Dr. Whyte.  
Katniss sighed and crossed to the bed. "You are seeing her right now aren't you?"  
I didn't answer her, choosing to look down at my hands instead, flexing them open and closed.  
She sat on the edge of the bed, taking my hand in one of hers and smoothing my hair back from my forehead with her other. She let her hand rest on my cheek.  
"Can I talk to her?" she asked, dropping her hand and averting her eyes like what she was asking might be sacrosanct.  
"It won't do any good Katniss...you'll basically just be talking to me since she is just a figment of my imagination."  
"Well, maybe this is a part of you that needs to hear something."  
I shrugged and opened my palms.  
"Have at it."  
"Where is she standing?"  
"In that corner," I said, pointing at Whyte, who was eyeing me petulantly.  
Katniss looked in the corner for several seconds as if she was trying to see if there was really something there, before moving into the space between Dr. Whyte and me. She stood very still and tall, poised almost, as if she was going to strike or lash out at any moment. She stayed like that for a few more seconds and I was compelled to look around her at Whyte's face.  
Dr. Whyte looked amused.  
"I want to know why you're still here," Katniss said.  
At first I didn't expect Whyte to respond, after all what could she say, she was a part of my subconscious. There had to be some part of me driving her and since I hadn't figured out what that was I doubted she would have an answer.  
"Peeta still needs me," she said and for once her tone held no malice.  
"What do I still need you for?" I asked acerbically, surprised by her answer.  
She peered around Katniss.  
"You still don't know what to expect from her...if you can trust her," Whyte said, her tone condescending.  
I didn't respond out loud because I didn't want Katniss to hear.  
"This is insane," I finally exclaimed, trying to avert some kind of a confrontation. "Katniss this is a part of me...a very,_ very _fucked up part of me."  
"But it's more than that. They embedded information in you. When you attacked me you were programmed to do that. Maybe Whyte is just more programming, only instead of being something here to hurt me...she's here to hurt you. To not let you have peace."  
I was silent, mulling over what Katniss had said, and Whyte waited in her corner sulking.  
"What happened to her?" Katniss asked.  
The question cut me and my heart lurched, though for what reason I couldn't say. I locked eyes with Whyte and for the first time ever she blanched. Her pale face grew whiter and was oddly juxtaposed between her stark black hair and white lab coat.  
"She's dead." I answered mechanically.  
Katniss turned on her heel slowly to face me.  
"You never told me that," she said carefully.  
"You never asked," I said quietly.  
"How did it happen?"  
"War tribunal. She was tried and found guilty of being a war criminal. The sentence was death."  
"Did you...were you involved in that?" she asked, betraying some of her disquiet.  
I was silent again for a time, looking Whyte in her eyes.  
"I was there for the trial...and the execution."  
"Peeta!" Katniss exclaimed. "That is a big deal. Did you talk to her?"  
"Only once. I was allowed to confront my torturer. It was Dr. Turner who pushed for it."  
"What happened?"  
"Katniss, I don't want to talk about it..."  
"You have to talk about it! You need to do everything in your power to convince your brain that this figment is no longer relevant."  
I didn't have the heart to tell her that Whyte had just voiced my fears quite succinctly regarding the reason for her continued presence in my life.  
"We barely spoke. I basically told her that things were exactly as they should be. That this was always the way it was going to end, with her in the ground and me moving on with my life."  
"What did she say?"  
"Not much...what could she say? She clearly wasn't afraid. Someone like her...she was almost reptilian. She didn't seem to emote. It isn't like she apologized or anything. She just said something about it being nice working with me."  
Katniss could barely contain her disgust.  
"It was nice working with you?" She gripped the sides of her head and paced away from me. "I don't understand."  
"I don't think that normal people understand people like Dr. Whyte."  
"How did they do it?"  
"Do what?"  
"Kill her."  
I sighed. "I don't really want to talk about it."  
She was silent but her eyes burned. I knew she was struggling with not pushing me, but she was at her wits end. She rounded on the corner where Whyte was skulking.  
"How did they kill you," she asked through her teeth.  
Whyte smiled, looking over Katniss's shoulder at me. "Painfully."  
I sighed. "She said it was a painful death."  
"Good," Katniss growled the instant the words were out of my mouth. For some reason I winced. Being well acquainted with suffering, I didn't like to think of another person having to go through it, even if they had been the perpetrator of my torment.  
"Oh Peeta," Whyte clucked, "forever the sensitive soul. It won't serve you well. Especially if you tie yourself to this one."  
I held my tongue.  
"I need to go outside for a minute. Is that okay?" Katniss asked, and I could tell that she was really getting ready to blow.  
"Sure."  
Katniss glared at the corner before storming from the room.  
"Tsk, tsk. Such as temper," Dr. Whyte said sardonically. "How ever will you deal with that during your recovery? And you have to know that nothing she does will ever get rid of me. You will never stop being unsure of her."  
I studied her for a moment, taking in the paler skin, the sunken eyes with circles beneath them. She seemed to be lesser in some indefinable way, and somehow I knew that she was wrong.  
"What was it you used to say to me?" I asked quietly. The already diminished light in her eyes faltered. "Someday I will break you and you will never be the same." I smiled at her. "That day is coming for you and you know it."  
"You are depending on that inconstant girl to save you?"  
"No," I said. "I will be the one to break you. The day is coming when you will no longer be relevant."  
She stopped looking at me then and lost more light. It was almost as if some of the light in the room that had been illuminating her no longer fell in her corner.  
Suddenly Katniss reemerged and it was as if the conversation we had had only a few minutes ago had not happened.  
"You ready to go home? Doc Lou said you could come as long as I stayed home with you for a few days."  
"Yes," I said without hesitating, already getting out of the bed. "I've spent enough time in hospital beds for one lifetime."  
She moved out of the way with a quiet 'okay.' I dressed in the clothes I had been wearing when I collapsed. Embarrassingly the process left me winded. When I bent over to lace up my shoes, the blood rushed to my head and caused me to lose my balance.  
Katniss, who had been patiently waiting in the chair for me to finish, came to my side.  
"Let me get those," she said quietly. I felt a little humiliated when she made me sit and she knelt in front of me to tie my boots like I was a child. But when I looked at her face I saw a content smile on her lips.  
"What?" I asked.  
"It is nice to take care of you, that's all," she said and she shrugged her shoulders. She finished and looked up at me, the smile still there.  
I groaned. "I don't want you doting on me Katniss. I'm going to be fine. Couple of days rest and I'll be back to my old self." I gripped her shoulders. "Please, let's not get worked up over this."  
She shook her head a little and looked off to the side and I thought I saw her eyes glass over. But she shook it off and when she looked back at me her eyes were clear. She finished tying my other boot and then stood. She reached out her hand.  
"Ready?"  
I took her hand in mine and got up from the chair. We walked out of Doc Lou's hand in hand and she didn't let go the whole walk home, which was something she had never done before. We entwined our fingers and she gripped me tightly, like I was going to try to slip loose. When I looked at her out of the corner of my eye she still had that content little smile on her lips.  
The walk was slow going because I had to stop several times to rest, but Katniss never let go of my hand.  
When we returned to the house I was surprised to find Haymitch inside with dinner set on the table. He was surprisingly sober though he did drink throughout the meal. Katniss had wine as well, which was unusual for her, though she only sipped it and spent a good deal of time staring contemplatively into the glass.  
Dinner was a quiet affair and when it was done Katniss sent me to bed. I tried to protest, telling her that I wanted to help clean up, but she would hear none of it. As I changed for bed I could hear her and Haymitch talking in hushed voices downstairs.  
_Since when were those two as thick as thieves?_  
After close to an hour Haymitch called up a 'goodbye' and I went to the top step to say farewell. Katniss shooed me back to bed as she came up the stairs.  
"I'm not living like this Katniss," I said good-naturedly, even as black vines of fear wrapped themselves around my chest, "I appreciate everything, really, but I'm going to be fine."  
"I know," she said, her voice unnaturally high as she passed by my bedroom door brusquely and went to her room. I heard her door close.  
A short time later I was lying on my side, staring out the window, when I heard light tapping behind me. I turned to see her standing in my doorway. She was wearing a pair of my pajamas that she had taken as her own when we moved into the house together, after she decided that they were more comfortable than anything else she owned. Her hair was long and dark around her shoulders.  
"Can I sleep in here with you?" she asked.  
"Of course," I said lightly, though my anxiety was mounting. "Is everything all right?"  
"Yes."  
She climbed in and moved close to me, draping her arm across my chest and pressing her face to my neck.  
"Did Doc Lou tell you something more than she told me?" I suddenly exclaimed louder than I had intended. "Because while all the attention and being this close is really nice, you are starting to freak me out. It's like you think I'm on my way out or something."  
I felt her body stiffen. She tried to mask it by tracing circles on my shoulder.  
"I don't think you are on your way out Peeta," she said quietly, though her tone was not overly convincing. "It's just..." She began but then stopped.  
"What?"  
She was silent, and though her body was no longer stiff I could still detect a note of tension.  
"You are...you're my best friend Peeta...you are more than that...and I just...ugh...I'm not good at this," she said irritably.  
"It's okay."  
"No, it's not, this summer at the cabin, us moving in together. I'm closer to you than I've ever been to anybody. And I don't want..." she fumbled with the words before continuing. "I mean I _want_ you to know what you mean to me."  
"Before I die." I said dramatically. I meant it as a joke, but she raised her head up, and even though it was dark I could tell she was glaring at me.  
"You are not going to die."  
I reached around and placed my hand on her back.  
"I assure you, Katniss that I am going to die someday, hopefully in the distant, distant future. But I'll be happy to have made it this far, and any further that I get, with you by my side."  
She seemed to want to argue, but since death is the one truly unarguable eventuality, she let it rest and put her head back next to mine on the pillow. She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek before mumbling a slightly cranky goodnight.

* * *

_Part Two_  
Two years later

The accounting paperwork for the bakery was spread across the kitchen table in stacks of variable heights. I sighed, wishing that they were actual baking materials I was looking at instead of numbers and figures. It was my least favorite task with regard to owning the bakery, and unfortunately I had left it to the end of the year to finish.  
Feeling on edge and agitated at myself for leaving the task to the last minute, I pushed my chair back from the table, letting the feet scrape across the floor.  
My ill mood was being further exacerbated by Katniss who seemed even more irritable than me. She had been banging around the house all day, swearing and ducking any overtures I made to try to make her feel better, which in reality were only excuses for me to procrastinate longer. She dodged my questions and seemed completely out of sorts and not herself. Normally I would move heaven and earth to try to soothe her, but at least for the moment, I had to force myself to be absorbed in my thankless accounting task.  
Shit!" She exclaimed as she slammed down a pot, stepping quickly away from the stove and clutching her hand. I was instantly on my feet and at her side.  
"Let me see it," I said with more patience than I felt.  
"No...I'm fine. It's nothing."  
"Katniss, I've been baking for most of my life. I know about burns, now let me see it."  
Reluctantly she held out her hand.  
A large red welt stood out angrily from her palm between her thumb and index finger.  
"Put your hand under the tap. Make the water cool, but not cold," I said, as I moved to the icebox and pulled out a few chunks of ice. I wrapped them in a dishcloth. "If you don't take down the temperature of the skin the burn will continue to get worse."  
I took her hand in mine and placed the cloth-covered ice against the burn.  
"Ouch. I know a thing or two about burns too, you know," she said crossly, pointing at the burn scar on her neck. "Ouch!" she said more vehemently.  
"All this fuss from the woman who has been burned _and_ shot." I said mildly with a smile as I rubbed my thumb along her wrist. "I know you are made from much tougher stuff." I lowered my head and brought her wrist to my lips, kissing her softly.  
"There," I said, as I reached up to smooth the line between her eyes. "You'll be better in a few minutes."  
The look she gave me was perhaps the most peculiar one I'd ever seen. It was equal parts frustration and adoration. The former I was well acquainted with, while the later was newer and somehow always took my breath away.  
"Peeta," she blurted, and it was as if she let the cork out of a champagne bottle her voice held such pent up angst. "I want to be married...I just...I want us to be together forever and just be done with it already."  
At first I was struck dumb. I looked at her for several seconds trying to process what she had just said, and then she started to cry.  
"Are you going to say no," she asked angrily, though her eyes were so vulnerable.  
I finally found my voice. I gripped her shoulders.  
"Of course I'm not going to say no. I'm going to say yes with all my heart. I just thought that the last couple of years it seemed like we already were married. We do all of the things that married people do, and we are pretty tied together in all of the ways that married people are with the house and the business and everything. I never dreamed to hope..." I trailed off, shaking my head. "I would be honored to be your husband."  
I took her face in my hands and kissed her deeply and she breathed a long sigh of relief. The scent of her breath always brought me such a sense of peace, like I was drinking water from an aquifer inside of her and it was a place that only I was allowed access.  
"We can go to town tomorrow," I said hopefully, not wanting to give her the chance to change her mind.  
"I have the paperwork all filled out," she said, surprising me again. "The clerk sort of bent the rules a little and signed the paperwork already. She even affixed the seal."  
"Josie did that?" I asked, surprised and amused that District Twelve still seemed to house the rebels, even in post-war Panem.  
"All that it needs is your signature. I've already signed." She pulled the document from her pocket. It was haphazardly folded and creased as if it had been in her pocket for a long time. My suspicions were confirmed when I saw the date.  
"You've had this for over six months," I said, taken aback.  
"I kept trying to find the right time," she said hurriedly. "Like you said. We've been living like we were married for such a long time and it seemed like a complication that we didn't need. But in the end it was something I didn't want us to live without."  
She spread the paper out on the table before me and picked up the pen.  
I cleared my throat.  
"You checked the box where you give up your name," I said, feeling tears sting the back of my throat. "You don't have to do that."  
"I want your name," she said. "I want everything." Her voice shook with emotion.  
"So I sign this and it is done?"  
"It's legal and binding with your signature. We should file it at the clerk's office for safekeeping, but really this is it."  
I took the pen, my hand hovering over the page, but I hesitated.  
This moment was the biggest of my life. All of the other big defining moments had been entwined with the Games and the war. This was one of the few, perhaps the only, that had the quality of being defining in a positive way, whereas all the others had been so negative. I placed the pen down on the table and turned to face her. I took her hands in mine, burns and dishrag, ice and all. I stared into the grey steel of her eyes, wanting to say something important to mark the moment, but all that I could think about was reassuring her. It irked me a little that she had beat me to it, though I knew that this was always how it was going to be.  
"You know I wanted to ask you right?" I half-whispered, not trusting my voice not to crack with emotion. "_Every single day since we were sixteen_. I would have married you before the Quell and it would have been just as real to me."  
"I know Peeta," she said solemnly.  
"Pushing you has never been the answer…I didn't think you'd ever…" I trailed off.  
The corners of her lips turned up in a smile and she nodded at me, a single tear escaping from one of her eyes and streaking her cheek.  
"It's been a longer road for me, I know, and you have been so patient and such a good friend," she said, her voice matching mine at barely a whisper. "I know I don't deserve you."  
"Don't say that," I said but she continued talking over me.  
"You are the most loving and patient man. I've known for a long time that you were the only one for me. I just had such a hard time getting over some really old, deep-rooted reservations about marriage that I've had going back to when I was a kid. I still have a few reservations…" She trailed off.  
I knew she was alluding to the subject of children. I knew that she still hadn't changed her mind about that. I had the choice between bringing it up or letting it lie for a while. I decided that it was better to let it go for the moment. She had come around with regard to the marriage. Perhaps someday...  
"I know that you have some concerns," I said, looking at her meaningfully. "But you have nothing to worry about. We'll be together. That's all that really matters. And about you not deserving me, that is nothing but bullshit. You are fiery and willful and strong and I love all of those things about you. You have been good to me, especially since we've returned from the war. It isn't like I'm all roses and sunshine all the time."  
"You're a lot more sunshine than me," she said, looking down, her lip pouting out sullenly.  
"Well then we're a good match. I'll bring the sunshine and you'll bring the stars."  
She looked up at me, a smirk turning up the corners of her mouth.  
"Sweet talker. You always could turn a phrase Peeta Mellark."  
I glanced down and signed the paper.  
"And you are the most beautiful bride in the world Katniss Mellark." I wrapped my arms around her and started kissing her hungrily. At first she returned it, running her hands through my hair and up and down my back, pulling my shirt out and putting her hands up the back of it. Suddenly she gasped.  
"Peeta the toasting!"  
I surveyed the room, grabbing a piece of bread from the counter and throwing it on the open flame on the stove. The bread immediately caught fire as it had gone stale, and I pulled it from the flames, dropping it when it burned my fingers. But I'd been burned many times and my fingers were mostly immune to the feeling. I picked it up. It was a blackened, charred crisp. I took a big bite of it and held it out to her. I chewed the ashes as she took an equally large bite, coughing on it and reaching for a glass of water next to the sink to wash it down. I drank what was left in the glass to rinse the taste from my mouth. On some level the taste was bitter and unpleasant, but at that moment it was sweeter than icing after waiting so long.  
I killed the flame on the stove.  
"Are we good here?" I asked, my meaning made clear as I started to undress her.  
"Yes," she sighed, locking her arms around my neck. "All necessary customs have been suitably observed." We went to the floor and lost ourselves in one another for both the thousandth time and the first time.

* * *

**2nd Author's Note:**

So this chapter presented some challenges, because even though they go together to some extent, the leap forward in time will probably be disorientating. I elected to do this because I wanted to address the seriousness of Peeta's illness in this piece, but I don't want to make it a thing during the remaining chapters. So much of this story has been about his torture and difficulties, that I want the last few chapters to be happy and leave the readers (and me) with a happy feeling. It may be alluded to, but it will not be a driving factor in the rest of the story. I could have posted them as separate chapters, but to be honest they were both such short vignettes, and I wanted to give you something to sink your teeth into.

I owe serious thanks to some people. The first goes to my constant readers and reviewers: sohypothetically, SpiritOfEowyn and SponsorMusings. You guys have been so supportive throughout this story and I am very, very humbled and grateful that you have stuck with me. I want to say thank you to two new reviewers: BBC Addict and Schmoeff. To all of you who have favorited and followed me I am also grateful. I try to respond to all reviews in PMs, so if you have something to say please, please REVIEW.


	15. Not About Me Anymore

**Not About Me Anymore**

Katniss paced away from me with one hand on her back and the other outstretched to grip the tree in front of her. Her breaths came in ragged gasps. I stood where she'd left me, but I wanted to take away her pain so badly, it was as though my nerve endings reached after her. It wasn't fair. I wanted the baby and it should be me suffering.

Haymitch sat on a log next to me with his hands on his knees and his shoulders shrugged nearly to his ears with anxiety. He'd gotten through the worst of drying out over a six-month period though it had left him drawn and thin. Medical intervention and sheer will had seen him through. He didn't look much like himself those days. Only his eyes were the same, feral and resolute, nearly the twins of Katniss's, willing to do whatever it took to survive.

He was there to help me carry her to the car that waited at the edge if the forest if it came to that. Katniss's mother was waiting in it with a bag full of supplies. Not that we thought it would come to that. Katniss had no intention of actually giving birth in the woods; she just wanted to do some of the laboring there. She said she wanted to be where it was open and she could breathe, that being confided to a bed made her feel afraid. So we went out there to let her walk for as long as we could.

She gripped the tree hard enough to strip bark with her fingers and let out a groan through her teeth.

"We've been out here for a long time, sweetheart," Haymitch said. "Probably should think about getting back soon."

She turned back toward him and shook her head as she resumed her pacing.

"They are still too far apart. I'm not ready." She looked me in the eye sharply and I nodded. I knew we'd have a fight on our hands if we tried to pull her out of there before she was willing to go.

"Peeta," Haymitch said almost under his breath.

I looked at him and shook my head. He sighed and heaved himself to his feet.

"You two are going to be the death of me," he muttered under his breath as he paced away. I knew it bugged him sometimes that he wasn't in charge of us anymore, as we had long been adults. On some level he would always consider himself our mentor. Though not parental, it was a relationship that had evolved into something different...a stewardship of sorts. Like we were two members of an endangered species that he had managed to protect, and he was bound to our survival in some way.

"Don't go far," I called after him. He continued to walk away, but I saw him nod his head and raise a hand in assent.

Katniss began pacing again, both of her hands supporting the small of her back.

"Is there anything-"

"No," was her clipped response.

I tried to think of something to do for her. I struggled under the weight of my guilt. _Should be me. Should be me. Should be me._

It was an absurd thing to think since it was impossible, but I couldn't help but want to take the burden from her.

"What are you scowling about?" she asked crossly, catching me unaware.

I couldn't think of what to say so I told the truth.

"I feel guilty."

"Guilty?" she grunted irritably. "You've got nothing to be guilty about. You know who should feel guilty? Plutarch Heavensbee."

I paused for several seconds before responding because I had no idea what she was talking about.

"Plutarch Heavensbee?" I asked.

"Yeah…if he hadn't asked us to do that interview, I'm fairly certain we wouldn't be here right now."

I was completely at sea. Rather than ask I continued to look at her, but she seemed to be in the throws of another contraction. I thought back to last summer when the question of the interview had come up.

* * *

_We were sitting in the kitchen. I reread the letter for the second time quietly as Katniss paced back and forth in the room like an angry bull. Every so often she made a furious 'hrghm' sound, as if she was having an argument in her head that she had to give some voice to. When I finished I folded the letter carefully and set it on the table. She finally stopped pacing and turned to me. _

"_What do you think? It's bullshit, right?" she asked angrily._

_I nodded at her, not wanting to pour gasoline on the fire. _

"_I mean, what the hell is Plutarch thinking? I was exiled here! We have been living quietly for fifteen years and now he wants us to do an interview? What does he think that we are going to say? What kind of sick spin is he going to put on this for people? Why do people even care any more?"_

_I didn't try to answer any of her questions or interject with my thoughts. I just watched her pace. Sometimes her energy still amazed me. _

"_I mean…I'm not doing it. You can do it, but I'm not doing it."_

_She was finally stopped and grew quiet._

"_You don't want to do it, do you?"_

"_No. I'm not going to be giving any interviews," I said evenly, but my voice held none of her heat. I wasn't angry or even surprised by the request. In fact I expected it to come much sooner. _

"_What kinds of questions are those anyway? 'If you could do it again would you do anything differently?' Does he mean knowing then what we know now? Yeah! I would have shot Coin the moment I met her! I would never have left your side during the Quell! I would have protected Rue…"_

_By the end her voice was shaking and her eyes were wild and I was compelled to stand to go to her side. I placed my hand on her back, rubbing small circles near her neck. She turned toward me, wrapped her arms around my waist and pushed her forehead into my chest._

"_How could he expect us to answer those questions? What good would the answers do?"_

_I sighed._

"_Nothing," I said quietly. "Except feed people's morbid curiosity I suppose."_

"'_Do you have any regrets?'" she whispered. "How could anyone ask us that question? I live every day with a thousand regrets. A hundred thousand!"_

_I kissed the top of her head and tried to sooth her with my presence. Sometimes it worked. But not that day._

"_How do you live with it?" she asked, looking at me. _

_The question caught me off guard, and I had to fight the urge to back away from her. I didn't want her to know how deeply it affected me. I tried to frame my answer carefully, because I didn't want to invalidate how she felt. _

"_Katniss…I don't want you to think that I don't have regrets. I do. Mitchell is probably the worst. Brutus. The people that we lost, especially our friends and allies. Johanna. The innocents that lost their lives in the war. But I don't harbor them anymore. I am always looking forward."_

_She looked at me incredulously._

"_How on earth do you do that?"_

"_I'm your husband. We have a home. I run a business. I bake bread. Even paint sometimes. I'm alive now. The past is a trap and I don't go there anymore. I live for now."_

_She was silent then, eyeing me with her steel grey eyes. I knew that she didn't understand and I didn't want to alienate her, so the words came out of my mouth without thinking. _

"_The only real and lasting regret that I will have in the end is if I never have a family with you."_

_I regretted the words the moment they were out. _

_We'd turned thirty-two that year, and I'd resolved to stop asking, not because I thought we were too old, but because I didn't want to be the sort of man who begged for something from someone who was so unwilling._

_She tilted her head then and something changed in her eyes. They shifted from steel to water, though it wasn't tears. It seemed that it was her moment to feel a little lost. _

"_I see," was all she said._

_We were quiet after that. _

_I penned a letter to Plutarch declining his request for an interview, politely but firmly asking that he leave us alone in the future. I never heard from him again._

* * *

I never thought about it, never put two and two together, but two months later she was pregnant. She wasn't exactly happy about it, but she was resolved and diligent in her care of herself and her preparations for the child who was to come.

"It was because of the interview request from Plutarch Heavensbee that you agreed?"

"I couldn't let you have that one regret. Not when it was within my power to give it to you. We've risked so much together over the years. What's one more, right?"

"You are amazing," I said softly.

"Yeah…let's save that for when this little girl makes her way into the world. At this point it seems like she is hanging on for dear life in there."

I looked at her, puzzled for a minute.

"You think it's a girl?"

"I know it's a girl," she said, shooting me a look. I was left nodding. "Only a girl would have the guts to sit on my bladder for the entire pregnancy and continuously kick me in the kidneys."

"So what'll we name her?" I asked, curious but also wanting to distract her. She'd resumed pacing.

"Right now I think 'pain in the ass' has a nice ring to it," she said sullenly. "Serve her right."

"I've been looking them up," I admitted, finally. "I had Dr. Aurelius send me one of the old books and I think I found a name in one of them. It means some things that I think you'd like. 'Tree' is one of them."

She smiled at that, since she'd just placed her hand on one to steady herself.

"I figured that would fit since both you and your sister were named for plants. It also means home." I paused for a moment before I continued with the real reason I was drawn to it. "It also means forgiveness."

She looked at me then, and through the haze of her pain I saw a flash of recognition. Of need.

"Spill it Mellark. What is it?"

"Kaia."

"That's it then," she said, bending forward and placing her hands on her knees. I was immediately at her side.

"You're ready to go back?" I asked, misunderstanding her meaning.

"No, I meant that's the name. Back is a ways off still."

* * *

I sat with my back against the headboard of our bed and looked out of the window into the black. Katniss was sleeping, curled beneath the blankets and silent next to me, such was her exhaustion. It was something that never happened. She usually slept at least partially uncovered, often with one leg hanging off the bed, foot nearly in boot. Her bow and quiver were always near her bedside table, within easy reach. I had brought them into the room earlier, but left them near the door. I didn't want her to wake and panic without her armor.

But I would have no weapons near our bed that night.

In my arms our daughter slept, borne that evening after two days of anguish. She too was asleep, though every so often her tiny lips would move and she'd make a soft sound, almost a sigh. Her flesh was as soft as a flower petal and her face bloomed pale pink with life. She was so warm and bright, so close, that it seemed like a little light emanated out of her tiny body and into my chest.

I sat completely still, turning my gaze from the window to look at her, and found myself stunned. It was same every time since I first laid eyes on her. It was a curious thing, to finally reach my uppermost capacity for feeling, and find that the emotion was attached to another life, a tiny life. To realize that what my life had been about since the beginning was changed, because it wasn't about me anymore.

I wanted so badly to reach out my hand and touch Katniss's hair, but I was afraid I'd wake her or stir the baby from her sleep. So I kept silent and still, holding the girl and gazing at the woman beside me.

Suddenly I sensed a stirring in the corner.

"Peeta," a voice hissed, though it was a weak sound, almost like my name was spoken through a bad connection on the telephone.

I was unsurprised when I looked up to see Dr. Whyte standing in the corner. She'd never left, though she had lost more and more of her composition over the years. She had once been a tall, fierce woman with black hair and features like sharp ice. When she was my torturer, she'd shunned the adornments of the other Capitol citizens, preferring black dresses and white lab coats, her hair pulled back in severe twists.

At one time she was an uncompromising, brutal figure in my life.

Now she was barely a shadow standing in the corner. Slowly over the years she had diminished, growing thinner and gaunter. After a while it became harder and harder to distinguish between the black dress and the white coat. It was as though she was receding deeper and deeper into darkness.

I looked at her for a full minute, trying to think of something to say to her to make her leave me alone with my family for the night, when all at once a calm settled over me unlike anything I'd ever experienced in my life. I looked down at my daughter for a moment.

_It isn't about me anymore._

I returned my gaze to Dr. Whyte.

"You are no longer relevant. Good bye," I whispered.

Without another word she shattered silently into dust and disappeared.

I looked at Katniss and then my girl, letting my gaze rest there.

* * *

The next morning I was sitting in the kitchen, still holding her when Katniss came slowly down the stairs. She looked relieved to see us when she got to the table.

"I slept the whole night," she said, clutching her hands to her stomach. A remnant of protecting the baby she had carried until only recently or residual pain from her labor I couldn't know. She came around the table and leaned into my arm, placing a hand on the girl. "How is she? Did she sleep too?"

"We got up a few times for this and that, but she seemed pretty tired out by the whole thing. Probably not as much as you…"

"No…that was the single hardest thing I've ever done," Katniss said quietly. "But it was worth it. May I?" she asked, signaling that she wanted the girl.

I handed her over reluctantly.

"Kaia," she said softly, and the girl looked at Katniss, making it clear that she knew her voice. "You've been a long time coming. I just didn't know…" she trailed off, running a finger along Kaia's cheek.

"Didn't know what?"

"That I was missing her," she said simply. "No way for me to know, I guess, until she got here."

I could have spoken up, told her that I had been missing this child for a very long time, but I respected that we'd come to it in different ways.

I watched Katniss look at the girl, and there was something in her eyes that I hadn't seen in a long time. Tenderness. Like she used to feel for Prim, but it was amplified. I thought of saying something but thought better of it. Katniss's level of comfort with vulnerability had not increased with her age.

We all sat quietly for a while before Katniss shifted anxiously in her seat.

"I need to hunt," she said quietly as she got to her feet, putting Kaia back in my arms and placing a soft kiss on her forehead. The baby fussed in my arms for a moment before settling into her nook. "You have enough milk and formula to get by for a few hours?"

"You sure you're ready to go out there? I mean the past two days…your body needs to heal."

"You're right. I won't go very far...I may not even make it all the way to the woods. I just need to be alone for a little while. Haven't been for nine months," she said, her mouth twisting into a crooked smile. "I'll be fine."

I noticed then that she was dressed for the hunt. How that had escaped me up until then was a mystery.

I looked down at my girl.

"Yeah, we'll be all right for a bit. Just not too long Katniss."

She nodded and kissed me, before hurrying from the room to gather her supplies. I couldn't imagine what would make me want to leave Kaia, but then Katniss and I were so very different.

I didn't hear her return to the room, so her voice startled me.

"Thank you for understanding, Peeta. I know that it is a lot leaving you here like this so soon. I just need this."

I looked at her. Her thick, dark hair braided over the shoulder of her father's hunting coat, bow and quiver in her hands. It was hard to believe that yesterday she had been pregnant.

"Thank you, Katniss," I said quietly.

"For what?" she asked, a small crease forming between her eyes.

"For Kaia."

She smiled then, one of her rare, true smiles that lit up her eyes and made her look like she was sixteen again.

"I would do anything for you," she whispered.

**AN: I was on a relatively short hiatus during the month of November for Nanowrimo while I worked very hard on my original novel. I did not make it to 50,000 words, but I did get within a stones throw of a lesser goal I set for myself. I am relieved to return to fan fiction for a while.**

**One more chapter after this (I think). I have other story ideas that I want to get to, and as much as I love Peeta and Katniss, I'm ready to move on for a little while.**

**As always I would greatly appreciate any and all reviews that you are willing to share. I'd like to extend a personal thank you to SponsorMusings who cared enough to check on me during November when I disappeared. That really meant a lot to me.**


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